Disclaimer: None of the recognizable characters and settings belong to me. They are all the intellectual property of J.K. Rowling. I'm just playing around with them for the fun of it…no monetary gain is sought.
This story is dedicated to scattered logic for her cherished friendship and all her invaluable help.
Chapter Ten: Secrets and Lies
With a sharp clatter, Irma Pince set her teacup down in her saucer, causing Minerva to jump slightly and focus her distant eyes on her friend with a start. The two witches were seated in a couple of cozy easy chairs in front of a roaring fire while rain sheeted down outside and splashed gustily against the nearest multi-paned window.
With a slightly exasperated tone, Irma exclaimed, "Minerva, I just told you that I was having the Headmaster's baby, and you didn't bat an eye."
Minerva lifted her cup to her lips and took a sip. Then she lowered it with a smile and said quite calmly, "Of course I didn't Irma. That's old news. Tell me something I don't know, and then I'll respond."
The two of them looked at each other for a moment then burst into laughter at the same time. It felt so good to laugh. Minerva realized, as she set her cup down on the table in front of her and gave a final chuckle, that she couldn't really remember the last time she'd laughed about anything.
Irma sobered finally and stared with affection at Minerva. "Fine…don't tell me what's bothering you if you don't want to, but you can't stop me from worrying about you. And you must realize by now, if I'm worried, I'm going to keep asking what's wrong until I get an answer that makes sense to me."
Yes, she did realize that, and she hated deceiving her friend, but she simply didn't know where to begin or how to explain. "Honestly, Irma…I am fine. I'm just tired. I've had a lot to keep me busy lately. That's all."
"You know, I've seen you busy before, and what I've been seeing lately isn't just busy. You've been lost in a fog ever since Severus got out of the infirmary. If you don't want to tell me what's bothering you, obviously, I can't make you, but please don't continue to tell me that you're fine because any fool can see that you're not."
Minerva dropped her eyes away from the sharp gaze of her friend and began to fiddle with the soft folds of her dark blue robe as they lay in her lap. She sighed lightly, but just didn't know how to answer. How could she possibly explain all the things that had been going through her mind lately? Very little of it made sense to her, either.
Her relationship, if one could even call it that, with Severus was something that had to be off limits to everyone. There was no question about that. Until recently, she'd been quite happy with that and rather relished the secret nature of it all. It had been fun having a secret lover, but now, she wasn't sure what she had there…except frustration.
However, her real problem wasn't Severus anyway, it was Ian. Having him here, having to see him, spend time with him, was beyond uncomfortable. Not knowing exactly why he was here, what he wanted from her was so disturbing that she hadn't had a full night's sleep since she'd discovered that he'd be coming. So, although being tired wasn't really her problem, she certainly wasn't lying when she said she was tired.
Irma watched her friend pick at her clothing and look uncomfortable. Usually, Minerva was one of the most forthright people she knew. She'd always been able to ask her anything and get an honest and sensible answer, but lately it was almost as if she'd become a different person. She seemed worried and jumpy and lost in some other place most of the time. Only one thing could be causing this as far as Irma could see, so she decided to take a chance and ask straight out.
"Is it Ian, Minerva? Is having him here what's upsetting you so much?"
Minerva raised her eyes from her lap and stared at the librarian in silence. How could she tell her what was really bothering her? She couldn't even articulate it to herself, not in any rational way. Seeing Ian again had just brought back so many thoughts and memories that she'd thought…hoped…she'd buried forever.
Minerva dropped her eyes again. "I don't want to talk about Ian," she whispered softly.
Taking this as confirmation of her fears, Irma nodded and took a sip of tea. "Perhaps not, but he is what's troubling you so much, isn't he? You never did tell me why you'd never told me that you'd been married, you know."
Minerva smiled a small tight smile. "No. I don't suppose that I did. My marriage to Ian Standish was over close to fifty years ago, Irma. It's ancient history…a mistake of my youth. Until he showed up here, it simply didn't occur to me to talk about it. Surely you have one or two youthful indiscretions that you'd rather not have bandied about amongst your current associates."
"I suppose so," Irma conceded. "I'm not particularly proud of the time that I got drunk and took off most of my clothes to publicly serenade a man that I'd fallen in love with, for example."
Minerva smiled at the sudden image that raised. "Irma! You didn't."
"Oh, yes, I did. He was one of my professors at University. His wife took exception to the attempted seduction and contacted the authorities. I was picked up and held for a few hours and then released once I'd sobered up. I almost died from the embarrassment at the time. You're the very first person whom I've ever told that to…who didn't know me at the time that is." Her eyes twinkled and her face flushed a faint red. "I still cringe when I think about it, and I wouldn't go out of my way to talk about it, but then, it hasn't come back to haunt me yet, either."
Minerva nodded. "As mine has me," she murmured softly.
"Apparently. Can't I help you? Even a little?" Irma leaned closer and reached across the space between them, touching Minerva gently on the arm. "Sometimes talking about your problems helps, you know." Her eyes shown with her sincerity.
Minerva hated to disappoint her, but she just couldn't face raking back through her memories at the moment. Certainly not aloud. Perhaps…perhaps she could just skirt the issue a bit and that would be enough.
"My marriage was not a happy one, nor, thank goodness, was it a long one. Our families arranged it all, so it wasn't exactly the choice of either of us. I was married to Ian for six years. That seems like a fairly small slice of my life in the grand scheme of things, but they were the most unhappy six years that I've ever lived through. I don't want to think about them, much less talk about them. Having Ian here is very uncomfortable for me. Having to be polite and friendly is difficult to say the least. He seems to want to renew old relationships, but I don't. It's making things quite awkward."
Irma nodded in understanding. "Yes, he does seem determined to push a close acquaintance with you. That kiss that he gave you at dinner the night he arrived, for instance. I could see that you were uncomfortable with it, but you handled it well."
Minerva snorted shortly. "Oh, you think so, do you? I really didn't have much choice. It was either let him kiss me or pull away and slap him across the face. Which one would have entertained the students more, do you think? It was a no win situation so I opted for the less dramatic action, though it wasn't my instinctive one. That whole incident was awfully embarrassing."
"Yes. I could tell that you were embarrassed, but from a distance I couldn't tell any more than that."
"Good. Hopefully the students couldn't either," Minerva stated firmly.
"Has he tried to kiss you again? Is that the trouble? Is he making unwanted advances, because I'm sure that if you told Albus, he'd put a stop to it immediately." Sudden visions of Minerva's disheveled appearance from last night flashed through Irma's mind. What if the man had tried to force himself on her friend?
Minerva almost laughed again at that comment, but she managed to stop herself in time. Albus wasn't likely to put a stop to anything. Though it was probably dreadfully unfair, it occurred to her that he just might encourage her to take Ian right into her bed if it would get him the answers that he wanted, but that was a sacrifice that she wasn't about to make. Not for any reason. A part of her was afraid that that was what the man was after anyway, yet she wasn't vain enough to think that that could possibly be the only thing he wanted.
Squirming uncomfortably in her seat, Minerva pleaded softly with her companion, "Irma, could we please find something else to talk about other than Ian Standish. It's bad enough that I have to deal with the man in person once more; I really don't want to spend all of my free time talking about him when he isn't around. I just want to forget that he exists for awhile, if you don't mind."
Irma nodded reassuringly. She could see how upset Minerva was to have to talk about Ian, and she didn't want to make things worse for her. Obviously, she didn't like her former husband at all, and if she was reading her right, she might even be a bit afraid of him. Minerva's reaction didn't do anything to sooth her suspicions about Ian's behavior though, that's for sure. He was going to bear watching.
"Of course. I don't want to upset you. Honestly, I don't. By all means, let's move on to happier topics."
Minerva nodded gratefully, and their conversation moved off into the more mundane lines that it usually went in during their teatime chats.
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Ian Standish stood at the window of the lovely suite that he'd been given and looked out over the grounds of Hogwarts. A cold wind was whistling between the towers and battlements of the ancient castle, spinning bits of leaves and fragments of smoke around and around at its whim. The sky was low and gray and everything looked somber and dark. The perfect complement to his mood. He'd been here for three days already, and he didn't feel himself any closer to his goal than when he'd arrived.
With a sigh, he turned away from the outside world and tried to figure out his next move. His introduction to the population of the castle couldn't have gone better. Everyone seemed quite happy and enthusiastic to have him here. Indeed, making himself welcome and well thought of had been child's play. There only seemed to be one exception to that, and if she hadn't welcomed him warmly, at least she didn't seem to have poisoned the waters of welcome for him or he wouldn't have been so successful at winning the others over.
As her image flitted through his thoughts, a frown came to his face. Minerva wasn't going to be an easy person to persuade to his cause. He knew that going in. Certainly he'd hoped that she could be persuaded voluntarily, and he wasn't quite ready to give up on that idea, but the chances of his success weren't looking all that good, he had to admit. He hadn't laid eyes on her since dinnertime on Friday. She'd been very quiet at that dinner and hadn't allowed him to make much in the way of conversational inroads with her. Then she'd skipped out quickly afterwards, leaving him to Poppy. A nice woman, and apparently quite willing, but she wasn't Minerva, and he couldn't lose sight of what he was really here for in the pursuit of some temporary amusement.
He wanted Minerva, needed Minerva, and one way or another, he was going to get her. She'd give him what he wanted voluntarily or… His eyes flicked to the tightly wrapped package that stood on his bedside table. He had ways of persuading her to come around. He didn't want to go that route, but he certainly would if he had to, and time wasn't infinite either. He needed to make some progress soon. She hadn't even appeared for dinner last night, but then the table had been rather empty of staff in general. A lot of them probably made other plans for Saturday evenings. At least he knew where she'd be tomorrow morning, as he'd be there, too, and this time he was going to do better.
In the meantime, he had another task to perform. This one shouldn't be particularly difficult. He was even looking forward to it. Yes, indeed. He had some questions of his own for Severus Snape, and it should be fairly easy to slip them in while soliciting his help in his primary mission. Oh, yes. It would be quite interesting to see just what his reaction would be when he was asked for his help with Minerva. Quite interesting indeed. There was something between Snape and Minerva. It pulsed in the air whenever they spoke. Perhaps it was nothing important, a house rivalry or other minor competitive relationship, but then again, perhaps it was more than that. He needed to be watchful. Whatever it was, he'd figure it out, and deal with it, if necessary.
Finding his way down to the dungeons was no trouble at all, but once there, it took Standish a while to figure out just where Snape's office might be. He'd been told that he'd find him there by a house elf, but the dratted creature had slipped away too quickly for him to get exact directions. That would never have happened at his home. His house elves knew their place…under the thumb of the nearest wizard. The ones here seemed shockingly independent. Not that that should surprise him with Albus Dumbledore running the show.
When Standish finally found Snape's office, he stood in the open doorway for a moment and watched the man at his desk. He seemed completely occupied with whatever he was doing. Probably grading of some sort as he was using a quill that was positively dripping red ink. There was an air of foreboding that crackled about him like lightning in a storm. Even Standish felt a slight reluctance to enter the office and possibly bring down his wrath at the disturbance.
Without raising his head from his work, Snape's voice slithered quietly across the room and addressed his visitor.
"Are you simply going to hover forever in the doorway as if you were one of my more reluctant students or are you going to come in, Mr. Standish?"
Standish crossed the room to stand in front of Snape's desk as the Potions master raised his eyes from the parchment before him. "Forgive me, Professor Snape. I wanted to speak to you, but when I found you occupied, I was reluctant to interrupt."
Snape raised an eyebrow and considered his visitor coolly. "I do tend to keep myself occupied. If you waited until I was doing nothing but staring absently off into space, you might have a long wait indeed."
Standish smiled faintly and nodded his head. "I'm sure that you're right, I should have simply knocked, and I do need to speak with you…privately."
"Oh?" Snape cocked his head with interest. "What about?"
Standish reached beneath the breast of his deep brown robe and extracted a folded square of parchment. "I have a message for you, from a mutual…friend."
Snape stared quietly at the small folded parchment as it rested so innocently in Standish's outstretched palm. Then he waved his hand towards his office door and waited until it closed with a firm click to indicate that it was now locked tightly. Without another word, he extended his hand and plucked the message from the hand of the man in front of him.
Carefully, Snape unfolded the parchment and laid it on his desk. It appeared to be blank, but everyone knew that looks could be deceiving. With an enigmatic glance upward at the older man, who stood watching quietly with slightly narrowed eyes, Snape opened the drawer of his desk and reached within to pick up a small very sharp knife. He drew the knife out, closed the drawer firmly and then quickly poked the tip of the knife into the end of the fourth finger on his left hand. A drop of blood welled up immediately, and very deliberately Snape waited until the drop became so fat that gravity had to take it, then he tipped his hand over the piece of parchment and watched as the drop fell to land in the center of the waiting pristine square.
Immediately, a hissing sound filled the space, and a miniature emerald copy of the Dark Mark floated above the stiff vellum in a gently wavering column of fine mist. A soft voice echoed in his ears. "I trust you're feeling better, my loyal servant. Please, render my emissary all the help he needs to accomplish his goal. It's vital to our interests that he succeed." Then, quite suddenly, the parchment burst into green flames, and in a matter of moments, nothing was left but a small pile of ashes.
Standish watched Snape's blood drip down onto the piece of parchment with interest. When it hit, nothing seemed to happen as far as he could see, but Snape's eyes seemed to glaze over for a moment, and he stared at the desktop as if mesmerized. Then, suddenly, the parchment burst into flames and reduced itself to a small steaming pile of ash. Odd.
Yet the little ritual seemed to have a meaning for Snape because when he looked up again, there was a knowing and rather speculative glint in his eyes.
Standish smiled. "Our mutual friend was quite concerned when he heard that you'd been injured. He insisted that I extend his regards now that you're back on your feet. I'm sure that he'll be asking for a visit from you any day now."
Snape's eyes narrowed slightly. "Yes, I'm sure that he will. Please, have a seat, Mr. Standish," he offered softly as he waved a hand at a nearby chair.
"Thank you, Professor Snape." Standish took the offered seat and settled himself comfortably within it.
"Now, how can I be of help to you?" Snape asked while watching his visitor most warily.
"I need you to help me persuade Minerva to trust me."
Snape raised an eyebrow at that. "What makes you think she doesn't trust you? As far as I can see the two of you seem to be getting along quite well."
Standish smiled. "I was married to the woman. I know how she feels about me, but I need to persuade her to put all of her negative feelings in the past. I need her now, and somehow I have to convince her that I'm sincere in my feelings for her."
Snape held a faint breath as he asked, "And are you sincere?"
"Of course," Standish smirked. "Minerva is a magnificent woman, who wouldn't want her in their life? Or their bed?" The wizard's eyes gleamed thoughtfully.
Snape shrugged off an uncomfortable stab of irritation at that comment and continued smoothly, "Tell me, Mr. Standish, why is it in the Dark Lord's interest to see that you have a willing bed partner in Minerva McGonagall?"
Standish leaned back in his chair and stroked his goatee thoughtfully. "That's really something that I'd prefer to keep between the two of us, if you don't mind. Suffice it to say that it is in his best interests. That really should be all that matters anyway…shouldn't it?"
Not to me, thought Snape sourly, but he smiled a thin smile and inclined his head in a stiff nod. "How do you think I can be of help to you in this…endeavor?"
Standish shrugged. "The two of you are colleagues. You obviously get along reasonably well with each other. Well enough, at least, that you play chess regularly, I understand. In fact, from where I sit, Minerva seems to be quite fond of you." His eyes sharpened, but his tone remained smooth as he asked, "Are you fond of her as well, Professor? The two of you aren't more than colleagues now…are you?"
His question took Snape slightly by surprise, though he managed to conceal his instinctive reactions completely behind a dark scowl and a smooth lie. "No. Minerva McGonagall and I are nothing more than colleagues. The thought of any other relationship with her is laughable. She's old enough to be my mother. In fact, I do believe that she is older than my mother."
Standish laughed at that response and seemed to relax slightly. "Age is a foolish reason to dismiss sex with a woman like Minerva, Snape, believe me. If you did bed her, you wouldn't be likely to regret it."
Silently, Snape acknowledged the truth of that statement, while forcing a skeptical expression onto his face. "Tell me, Standish, if you loved the woman so much, why did you ever divorce her in the first place?" Perhaps, he could finally get that little question answered at least.
Another deep laugh escaped Standish's lips as he smirked once more at the younger man. "Love? Oh, dear me, no. I'm talking about sex here…not love. I didn't love Minerva, and frankly, she didn't love me either. Our marriage was an arrangement, pure and simple, but the sex, well that was something different altogether. Unquestionably, Minerva McGonagall was the best sexual partner that I've ever had, and, believe me, in my life, I've had quite a few."
With a slight stab of annoyance, Snape found that he didn't doubt that for a moment. The powerfully built and handsome Standish was exactly the type of man that many women drooled over. The expressions he'd seen on most of the female faces in the castle over the last few days bore that out quite obviously. Nevertheless, he kept an expression of polite skepticism on his face as he continued to listen to the man pontificate. He really was an ass. How ever had Minerva managed to last six minutes married to him, much less six years?
"No, never pass up an opportunity to have sex with a willing pureblooded witch, Snape. Especially one who's as magically powerful as Minerva. And you shouldn't let age stop you either. In fact, I imagine that sex with Minerva would be much better now than it was when she was younger. She's just hitting her sexual prime, after all. She's a very strong witch, and magical ability greatly increases the life span for both witches and wizards. The more powerful ones tend to live a much longer life. That's hardly a secret, I suppose. However, most people don't stop and equate the longer life span with a stronger and more powerful sex drive, but in my experience, at least, they do equate…quite spectacularly. In women especially, magic increases the drive as they mature, and as it stretches out the life span, it also stretches out the years of sexual maturity. Oh yes, I'm looking forward to getting Minerva back into my bed again. No question about it."
"Apparently so. Any chance that you'll be attaining your goal any time soon?" Snape held his breath. Why did the answer matter so much?
"I certainly hope so, but that's where you come in." Standish smiled.
"Oh? Minerva doesn't consult me as to her choice of bed partners, Standish. I'm afraid that I fail to see exactly how I'm to be of much help to you here," he stated dryly.
"No, I imagine not, but I'm willing to bet that my name has come up between the two of you occasionally since I've been here. Apparently, you play chess together quite regularly. Couldn't you put in a good word for me then? The master wants me to succeed in my quest here, Snape. Surely you wouldn't want to disappoint him?" Standish's gaze held a slightly threatening glint to it, but as Snape had been threatened by many wizards who were far more impressive, he really didn't find the man all that intimidating.
Oh no, perish the thought, drawled Snape silently. Aloud he said, "If the opportunity arises to pursue the subject with Minerva, then I will do my best to see that the outcome is the appropriate one." His lips curved into a knowing smirk.
Standish rose to his feet and smiled. "Excellent. I knew that I could count on you, Professor Snape. The Dark Lord always speaks highly of you."
Snape inclined his head once more. "As he should," he murmured softly.
