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 Twenty One: Recognizing the Truth
As she closed her office door behind her and started off down the corridor toward her rooms to prepare for dinner, Minerva suddenly heard heavy footsteps following her own. Reluctantly, she turned her head to discover a determined looking Ian Standish only a few paces behind her. Though her natural inclination was to speed up to get away from him, she instead forced herself to slow down and allowed him to catch up.
"Good evening, Minerva," he sneered. "I haven't seen very much of you over the past two days."
Her tone was cold as she answered the reproach she heard in his voice. "Does that really surprise you? It shouldn't. We really don't have much to talk about anymore."
"On the contrary, I think we have quite a lot that needs to be resolved. I grow tired of waiting for your answer. You aren't stalling me now, are you?" His voice was full of warning. "Surely it can't be taking you this long to decide what to do? After all, there's really only one choice worth making here."
"For you, that's no doubt true, Ian. Your only consideration would be to save your own skin, but the equation doesn't seem quite that simple to me. You gave me until tomorrow to decide what to do, and that's when you'll receive your answer…not before. You'll simply have to learn to be patient." Dismissing him coldly, she turned away.
Before she could actually move away from him though, Standish abruptly slid an arm around her neck and pressed the tip of his wand under her chin as he pulled her off of the main corridor and down into a much narrower side corridor nearby.
His voice growled low and ugly in her ear. "You don't seem to have realized who has the upper hand here, Minerva. So I guess that I'll have to explain the situation to you again. If you don't agree to my demands, your comfortable life here will be a thing of the past. Your days of educating young minds will be over. There'll be no more comfortable bed to sleep in, no more nice warm clothes to wear, no more gourmet meals cooked by obliging house-elves who cater to your every request. Oh, no. Instead, you'll spend the rest of your life in a cold, damp cell wearing rags and eating swill. That is unless they decide to simply hang you instead and be done with you. Is that truly what you want?"
As the wand jabbed deeper into the delicate skin beneath her chin, the arm about her neck loosened, and its hand began to roam possessively down over the front of her body.
"Surely retaining this life that you've built for yourself is worth giving up some land that you have no real use for and spending the occasional night in my bed. I can make it very pleasant for you, you know…" His voice had acquired a husky tone heavily laden with lust, and she felt moist lips graze the nape of her neck.
Minerva closed her eyes and gritted her teeth. He made it sound so simple, as if there weren't any larger issues involved here at all. Was that truly how Ian saw the world? If something was personally advantageous to him, then it was the right choice and to hell with the larger picture? Apparently so, not that she should be surprised by that.
As Ian's hand began to slide down over her abdomen, she abruptly tried to move forward out of his grasp hoping to escape him, but he reacted more quickly than she expected. His wand slipped across her neck, and he raised his free hand to grasp its tip and pulled back hard, crushing her windpipe against the stiff wooden rod.
Her hands flew up to try to pull it off, but the strong pressure against her throat stole her breath away, and the next thing she knew, she was down on her hands and knees on the hard stone floor of the corridor gasping for air while red spots blinked dizzily before her eyes.
Ian crouched down next to her and shook his head mournfully. "You can't escape. Why do you keep trying? I've never met a more foolishly stubborn woman than you, Minerva. For some unfathomable reason, you've always let your arrogant pride override your good sense. Now, do I get an answer? And for your sake, I hope it's the right one."
Still gasping for a deeper breath, Minerva sat down heavily on the floor and glared up at her assailant with hate filled eyes.
"You'll get your answer tomorrow, Ian. Not before," she spat defiantly, rubbing her abused throat with a shaking hand.
With an ugly expression on his broad face, Ian stood, reached down and seized the front of her robes with his hand, and dragged her up onto her knees, ripping the soft material of her bodice in the process. Then he drew back his other arm to deliver a blow, but before he could follow through, a low intense voice stopped him.
"What the hell is going on here?"
Frozen in place by this unexpected interruption, two faces turned towards the penetrating voice to see Severus Snape standing at the junction with the main corridor glowering darkly at the disturbing tableau spread in front of him. Without missing a beat, the beefy wizard lowered his threatening hand and used it instead to reach down and pull Minerva rather roughly to her feet. Then he directed a smirking smile at the man he believed to be his ally, without releasing Minerva from his grasp.
"Professor McGonagall caught the heel of her shoe in the hem of her robe and fell, I'm afraid. I was simply helping her up. Isn't that true, Minerva?" His fingers dug painfully into the muscles of her arm prompting the answer he wished.
"Yes," she said shortly. "I fell."
Ian smiled more broadly. "I'm sure that you'll be all right now, my dear. You really need to be more careful, you know."
"Yes, I intend to be." Her voice remained inflectionless.
"Excellent," Ian boomed heartily. "We'll talk tomorrow then."
"Yes, tomorrow…as I told you in the first place." This time her soft voice held more of its previous determination, and she nodded her head decisively, flashing cold eyes his way.
"As you wish. Enjoy your free evening then." His warning tone reminded her that it could be one of her last if she didn't see things his way, then he bowed mockingly, turned and gave a short bow to Snape as well. "Good evening to you too, Professor Snape."
Snape narrowed his eyes and inclined his head slightly in response to the seemingly self-assured man. "Good evening, Mr. Standish."
With a final, slightly threatening, glance at Minerva, Ian swaggered off back down the main corridor, leaving Snape and McGonagall standing alone amongst the shadows. Once Standish's footsteps had faded away, Snape stepped closer to the disheveled woman, noting as he did so the torn material of her bodice and the vivid red and purple mark that was forming against the pale skin of her throat. A questioning frown formed on his face as he asked, "Are you all right? What really happened here? Obviously, that fool wasn't simply helping you up. It looked as if he was about to attack you."
Minerva felt a slightly ironic and incredulous laugh bubbling up inside of her, though she suppressed it as well as she could. Was that actually concern and uncertainty that she was finally hearing in his voice? She shook her head and tried to keep her voice level and soft. "Did it? I told you I fell, Severus. You mean you don't believe me? How unexpected." A tinge of sarcasm crept into her tone though she really did try to keep it out. Quite suddenly, all the frustration that she'd been feeling toward him began to seep out through the cracks in her façade, and she wasn't sure that she could hold herself together for too much longer if she remained in his presence.
With a weary sigh, she passed a slightly trembling hand across her eyes before continuing, "Perhaps you'd prefer to believe that we had some sort of lover's quarrel that got out of hand? Is that more to your liking? You've been so determined to draw your own conclusions lately. Nothing I've said has seemed to matter in the slightest. Why should now be any different?"
Abruptly, she dropped her eyes away from his and turned to leave. All she wanted was to escape from everyone and be alone for awhile. Arguing further with Severus wasn't going to help her with anything. It was just going to hurt more. She took a step away from the Potions master only to feel her arm seized in an insistent grip and her body forced to turn back towards him.
Her eyes flashed with deep anger as she turned back to look at him, but her voice remained low pitched and icy in tone. "Please, release my arm, Severus. I am through putting up with men who feel that they have the right to grab hold of me anytime they wish."
Taking heed of the cold warning in her voice, Snape dropped his hand away without protest.
"Obviously, there's far more going on than I've realized," he said quietly. His fingers drifted upward towards the angry mark on her throat, then dropped away again without touching. "What did Standish do to you? What does he really want from you?"
Minerva stood still for a moment and stared deeply into Snape's eyes. Were there finally real questions there? Doubts? Could she possibly tell him the truth and be believed? Hope flared upward for a moment, then plunged back beneath the churning surface of her mind. No. How could she tell anyone? If she couldn't believe it herself, how could she expect anyone else to believe it? Especially someone as suspicious and judgmental as Severus was. How could she bear it if she told him what Ian was really up to, and he still didn't believe her? Best to leave things as they were.
"You want the truth, Severus?" she asked. "Very well, I'll give you the truth. Ian Standish is a nasty, cruel, controlling man. I despise him, and I always will. Anything that's occurred between us since he's been here has been forced on me over my very great objections. The only reason that I've tolerated his company at all is because Albus asked me to in order to try to discover Ian's purpose for being here. Your secrets have never been in the slightest danger of being revealed by me. I would never betray you, and the fact that you so easily believe that I would…hurts. So you can just stop glowering at me every time our paths cross. I've had more than my fill of it."
They stared at each other for a long silent moment, then Snape opened his mouth to speak, but Minerva beat him to it. "Good night, Severus. Don't expect me for dinner. I've lost my appetite."
Without another word, she whirled away from him and headed swiftly off down the corridor, turning the corner and leaving his sight, though the sharp click of her heels filled his ears for some time, as he stood there uncertain and troubled in the dim and shadowy hall.
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A decision had to be made. This uncertainty couldn't go on any longer. It was tearing her to pieces inside and out. Minerva's fingers nervously toyed with the torn material of her robe, and she straightened up on her couch and stared resolutely into the fire in front of her.
Ian was right. She was stalling because a part of her didn't want to admit that she was going to have to do this, but that sort of behavior was unworthy of her, and it was past time that she put an end to it.
Resolutely, she got up and crossed the room to her desk. There, she sat down and took up a quill and a piece of parchment. She'd weighed all the pros and cons a million times, but she'd never simply laid them all out for herself before, and it was past time that she did. So for the next few minutes all that could be heard was the scratching of the quill against the stiff parchment and the bits of wood that broke off and fell hissing sharply into the crackling fire.
Once she'd written out every consequence she could think of, she sat back and read them over to herself. If she gave in to Ian, she'd lose her estate, but she'd get to keep her job and her life; she wouldn't have to go to prison. Her life would never be her own again, though. Ian would forever have this to hang over her head, and she'd have to let him touch her once again. He would win, and he'd never let her forget it. And worst of all, her estate, her family's legacy, would go to support the greatest monster the wizarding world has ever seen.
She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. If she didn't give in to Ian, she'd almost certainly go to prison or be executed for murder. The life that she'd loved so much and worked so hard for would be gone forever. She'd lose her job. She'd lose her friends. She'd lose their respect and their good opinion. Most likely she'd never see any of them…Albus, Irma, Poppy, Filius…or Severus…ever again.
On the other hand, Ian would have to fight much harder to get his hands on her property. She had a legal will after all, and it wouldn't be invalidated if she were condemned unless the Ministry decided to invoke the old law that gave them the right to seize the property of condemned prisoners. It wasn't a law that was used much anymore, but if it was still valid, certainly that was a possibility. However, if the Ministry did decide to invoke that law, they wouldn't be too quick to give up a windfall like that to someone without a blood claim.
So no matter what he said, there was a very good chance that he'd fail in his attempt to grab her estate, and if he failed, then he couldn't use the profits from it to support Voldemort and his evil. In fact, he'd probably be severely punished for failing to deliver what he'd promised. That alone might be worth defying him. A sad and bitter smile crossed her lips briefly at the realization that she could feel so spiteful, but she didn't deny that truth to herself.
What was the right answer anyway? If she was guilty of this crime, then she should be punished for it, shouldn't she? Though it seemed impossible to believe, all the evidence did point to her being guilty, and if she was, then she'd evaded punishment for fifty years all ready. Wasn't that enough of a grace period? It was much more than most murderers received.
Minerva scanned the list and sighed. With an abrupt gesture, she crushed the piece of parchment between her palms and tossed the resulting ball of trash into the bin next to her desk.
In the end, there was only one answer, and she'd known that all along. It was just…difficult…to face, but face it she must. Her estate could not be allowed to go to support Voldemort and his evil, not if there was any possible way to prevent it. Ian and his master could not be allowed to win. If she had to go to prison to stop them, then so be it. Her family's legacy should never be perverted to support the type of evil that she'd spent her life fighting against. What happened to her was irrelevant in comparison. She was just one old lady. She'd lived a good life. If it had to end now, then it did.
Perhaps she deserved this horrid fate anyway. All the evidence seemed to show that she was a murderess. Even though she couldn't remember doing it, apparently she'd taken the life of a man who had done nothing she was aware of to deserve death, and she'd gotten away with the crime for far too long. If these facts were correct, then imprisonment or worse was what she deserved, and she should simply own up to it and take her punishment. Trying to evade it any longer wasn't worthy of a Gryffindor.
A cold smile flashed across her lips as she contemplated facing Ian and telling him no. There was no doubt that she'd get immense satisfaction from that. He'd never understand her making this decision. It was one that he was simply incapable of making himself, but it was the right one, and getting to defy him in the process was just extra icing on the cake.
Her expression sobered once more though at the thought of what she'd tell everyone else. They'd never understand. How could she face Irma, and Albus, and Severus, and tell them that she'd probably killed a man many years ago, and now she was going to have to be sent to jail to atone for the crime. How could she do it?
Sadly, she shook her head. She couldn't. It would be best for all of them if they didn't have to know anything about it until it was all over. None of them deserved to get dragged into her mess. There was only one way for that to happen, though. She'd have to leave. If she wasn't at Hogwarts anymore by the time she was arrested, then she couldn't drag the reputation of the school down with her. She had to resign. It was the only answer. The last thing she wanted was to be responsible for yet more trauma being heaped on the school and its innocent occupants. They'd all been through enough over the last year or two. They didn't need another scandal for the press to revel in.
Slowly, she turned in her chair and took up a fresh piece of parchment. Carefully, she spread it out on the desktop before her and dipped her quill once more into the inkwell. After a pause to try to gather her thoughts, she bent her dark head and began to write one of the most difficult letters that she'd ever had to write in her life, her letter of resignation.
Once it was done, she set the quill aside and got to her feet. Despite the low temperature outside, she opened the French doors that led to her balcony, and stepped out into the dark night beyond. The brisk, cold wind slapped her full in the face and brought stinging tears to her eyes. Impatiently, she wiped the moisture from her cheek and let her gaze travel up over the familiar façade of the castle, noting the myriad of warm, lighted windows amidst the strong, aged stones. With a gentle, caressing touch, she pressed a hand to the ivy-covered wall. This place had been her home for most of her life; it contained all the "family" she had left. She'd never felt as if she truly belonged anywhere else. Not even within the house for which she was giving all this up. It was going to be so difficult to say goodbye.
With moist eyes, she walked across the small balcony to stare down over the edge of the parapet into the darkness below. It was a long way down. Perhaps she could save everyone some trouble if she simply threw herself over the railing into oblivion. It would all be over quickly that way. She let herself look longingly into the darkness for a moment and be tempted before straightening up with a sigh.
No. That was the coward's way out, and no matter what else it might be proved that she was, she wasn't a coward. She'd face whatever life demanded of her, and she wouldn't complain about it. And she certainly wouldn't end her life in such a way that some other poor innocent would have to deal with the finding of her body. What if it was a student who found her? She shook her head firmly. No. That would never do.
She turned away from the icy darkness and returned to the warmth of the room behind her and shut the doors firmly. Her eyes gazed slowly around her room noting all her possessions, things that had come to have meaning to her over the years that she'd lived here. She had this night to say good-bye. This night to come to terms with leaving, because tomorrow would most likely be the last day that she spent here at Hogwarts.
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Next Chapter: Minerva begins the process of leaving Hogwarts.
