See! I told you that it would be on time:) I can't promise 2 weeks for the rest of the chapters. Damn school is kicking my butt…PLUS softball...plus computer is still spas-ing out. Anywho…if and when I have the time, I'll start trying to reply to your reviews via email.

While we're at it...thank you: gahhMinerva, kidarock, Alesia G, SherbetKitty,Zoeteproet, Hogwarts Duo, Becca, alix33, Holly (), and Lady Loraine


Chapter Five: Minerva

It was a foggy morning again, not that it surprised Minerva. She believed that it was fog's habit to be present near bodies of water, not to mention where the humidity was high. The entire world seemed as if a cloud had come to land and refused to let anyone find their way. Her place of current stay was as ominous as anything could get.

The simple fact that it was foggy meant very little to the woman, however. True, she could not see very far infront of her, but she only needed an arm's length. Minerva could follow the shoreline, constant and quite beautiful, even in the morning dreariness.

She was bent on being alone for the earlier part of the day, though she could not really quite figure why. Minerva had simply woken up and told herself to go, for outside there would be beauty, life, and eventually, sunshine; she missed all of the elements very much—perhaps the scenery had been her reasoning for going to Hermit Lake.

Minerva pulled her favorite cloak over her sleeping gown and walked outside of her home. It was not chilly outside; after all, it was in the dead of summer. The weather was really even quite warm. However, even the morning wave didn't make her scenery less eerie. The weeping willows were still, the water rippled here and there when fish jumped, and the twigs cracked underneath her feet as she made her way towards the shore. Not a bird chirped or a duck waded; the world, for the moment, seemed dead.

The woman held her wand tightly between her fingers as she began walking slowly to the southeast. It was really a stroll more than a walk, you see. Minerva saw no need to hurry. There wouldn't be a sun to burn her for some time and she was in a beautiful place, even if the world seemed to take on a different representation. It was in the woman's nature to find the beauty in what she saw, though the fog clouded the structures.

The truth was that she had gotten too far away from herself over time and it was not something that the woman liked. Minerva found herself to be cynical, haughty, and far too methodical in everything that she did.

She'd been happy once, really she had. A time before, perhaps three years, there seemed to be nothing wrong with her life. She had a wonderful job, where she worked above people so high as four times her age (she'd been twenty-one then) which she was perfectly qualified to do so. There had even been friends then that she adored. And there was a man…he seemed so perfect.

His name was Edwin. There was nothing crude or horrid about him. The man was a gentleman who pushed in his date's chair, opened the door, and was always polite. He had a mind of his own, too. He got along famously with Minerva at work. Yes, she couldn't help herself; he was one of her associates.

It was only a few months before he proposed to her. Gladly, Minerva of course said yes. They were happy together for a short while after that. That is, until he came to her door one cold night in January.

She could smell the scent of alcohol on his clothes; they radiated like nothing she'd ever seen. His eyes were yellow and his face red. He spoke like any other drunkard would—maliciously, scathingly. "Hello there lass," a snide smile hung on his lips, "What are you up to tonight?" He leaned against the doorway.

Minerva took a step back. No, she didn't want to believe what she saw...that was her lover. She'd never thought that there would be a day where her perfect Edwin would look so…filthy. But even more so than the alcohol and dirt which had somehow found its way on his clothes, there was also a fire in his eyes. No, it wasn't a lover's fire; that was a drunken fire, a dangerous one. Minerva had known fear once or twice in her life, but she'd never been as scared as she was when his eyes met hers. He approached her slowly as he walked through the door.

She took one step back, he took one forward, she went back, and he stepped upwards. This manner continued until she was clear up against the wall. His hands pressed hard on her hips, making her wholly secure. He smiled, knowing damn well that she wasn't going anywhere. Then he whispered into her ear very roughly. "Guess what?"

Minerva didn't dare answer. He went on anyhow, the drunken fire growing fiercer in his eyes. "You, Miss McGonagall, are going to a new department. And I am stuck down here."

The woman stared at him with wide eyes. "W-what?"

His fist ignited with her waist. All air in her system was thrust out and all that was left was pain. Instinctively, she grabbed her stomach while choking for air. He stepped away from her, malice in his eyes. "I've been working in that department for ten years! Ten damned years!" He hit her again in the stomach, then on the face.

She fell to the floor on her shins with a cry. Her arms cradled her stomach protectively as the tears streamed down her face.

"And how long have you been there! Two! Damn you, Minerva! They all told me that you'd be the death of me. Little Miss Perfect," he spat. "I never thought I'd resent you!" He stomped on her back, sending metallic pain all across the woman's body. A shriek escaped her this time, echoing in the empty room and onto the empty street.

Tears were leaking down her face which refused to look up at the man, drunk and deadly. She barely even made out the long piece of wood which had fallen from the nightstand, probably from the first time he hit her. It was only a blur, a long, bland blur; but it was enough. Minerva reached up infront of her and grasped the wood. Then through uneven vision, she pointed the wand at him, and whispered some very simple words, "Petrificus Totalus". The man fell with a thump.

And Minerva? Her world went completely blank.

The woman looked through the trees of the lake and towards the sunrise. There were only streaks of reds and violets in the sky, but it was enough to tell her that she'd been outside for at least half of an hour. As it seemed, however, she felt no need at all to return to her home so soon. After all, it looked like it would be a beautiful day, that is, since the fog began to disappear. Also, in all fairness, she felt it better to consider her life in the solemnity of her own company.

She walked only a few more steps before approaching a rather large boulder by the lake's edge. Minerva climbed up and sat at the top of the element. There were fish now, playing in the water along with the frogs and ducks. The woman supposed that it was all due to the sunrise; it was the sign for all life to wake. For whatever reason, she was glad to see such a thing. Her somberness was only cured by happy things, as pitiable as it seemed.

Minerva blinked to herself, allowing just a tiny tear to slide down her cheek. It shouldn't have hurt still, but it did—at least emotionally. She ran her hand up her back which was in perfect alignment, then her faultless jaw, and finally her stomach. The woman had been fixed, so to speak by the potions, but there was damage there that couldn't ever be mended.

It was two days—almost three—after that night when she awoke inside a hospital bed. Minerva was not at all with her wits when she finally opened her eyes, but she saw the world differently, perhaps her mother was to blame.

She'd never forget that smile that crossed her mum's face; her eyes lit up and her lips seemed to have reached almost to the ears. The woman started crying when Minerva's eyes opened, but still immediately screamed for a nurse, calling frantically. Then she had turned kindly to Minerva, drawing her hand over her daughter's arms—the only usable part of her body which had not been damaged.

"Don't go back to sleep, stay awake, Love," her mother whispered, almost shaking. "Please, Minerva. Talk to me until she gets here."

It felt as if she had been put through a sleeping potion and rested for hours on end. She was the best that she had ever been, though perhaps a little bit slow in understanding what was asked of her. As such, Minerva took a very long blink. She didn't remember anything recent; nothing of Edwin. Later on, the diagnosis was amnesia.

"Is it sunny outside?" she asked. When she had been a child, it was one of her favorite things to ask her mother. No one who knew her after the accident would have known it, but once upon a time Minerva very much liked to play outside by the trees of her home. However, she was rarely let out onto the soggy grass.

"Yes, dear," her mother nodded her head as a tear leaked down her cheek. "Everything is bright outside. Nothing could be dark since you're all right."

Minerva had the mind of a child once again. She saw the simple things before her, like sadness and hope. The woman saw the sun, too, wanting nothing more than to go and play in it for that one moment. So she reached out—in her younger mind—and grasped her mother's hand. The girl smiled gently. "Don't cry," she whispered, "Papa doesn't like it when you cry."

The woman still wondered what it was that made her say it. Her father had died when she was young, about six. Minerva had been at the curious stage at the time and looked for answers from her distraught mother. The girl's mom would always say that her Papa—that had been her name for him—was watching them from the sky and wanted them to be happy. So from then on, whenever the tiny six year old wanted to misbehave or cry, her mother would always refer to her father. And that one time, she was able to reverse the roles; her mom was crying while her daughter held no fear—or more rightly, alertness.

But Minerva had become quite aware a while after that. It only took several months for her to fix her damaged memory. Somehow all the events of her life fell into place and she could recall everything. She remembered her mother and father and friends. Minerva was also able to recollect events and school. In truth, she was happy to evoke all of this, but she held no wish to keep in her mind what led to and followed her stay in St. Mungo's.

It was horrible, what she had to relive time and time again. There was always pain, always when she attempted to recall what happened. She'd tried many times to create her own fictitious idea of what happened that night when Edwin came, but thus far, there was no denying what actually occurred. He beat her just long enough to scar her.


Albus slid himself gently into the lake water, knowing he had a high possibility of freezing to death where he stood. Though the sun had been up for one or two hours, there was no denying that warmth would not enter the liquid until it was ready to set again. After that, the water would take its normal course and become nearly freezing again. What a vicious cycle it was, indeed.

The man placed his wand gently on the boat deck, after conjuring a floatation device for himself, and put a magical barrier between it and the rest of the world in order to keep it out of the lake. He pushed himself away from the dock while holding tightly to the device which he had created. Albus kicked for a very long time, that is, until he was in the middle of the lake. There, he just floated: back, stomach, arms—take your pick.

He enjoyed the sun blazing down on his skin; warmth was needed, not preferred. The heat comforted him in a way that nothing else could. There was something calming in the fact that there would always be an orb in the sky, giving heat to his body.

The sun made him think clearly, or perhaps, not at all. Whichever affect it was, he fell into his own seductive thoughts which had nothing at all to do with what was right or wrong or idiotic, but rather himself. Albus chose to think of allurement while he was in the company of water and sun, maybe a dangerous game to a man such as him. But he saw no reason why he should not; after all, there was no one near who would read his thoughts.

He saw very clearly in his mind the water, a boulder, himself, and a woman. Of course they were swimming, he and the girl. In his mind, they'd been swimming all day, enjoying the beautiful scenery before them. She was wearing only her undergarments, lacy and delicate. No, she didn't mean to, but she certainly taunted him. What could he do, other than lust, while such a perfect creature as she was gliding across the water in so little?

Of course it was his intention—he always got his way in his fantasies—to take her out from the center of the lake and lead her to a special spot. The place, so to speak, was a decent swim away from where they were, but they played tag and flirted the entire way. When they got there, her face lit up.

It had once been a mermaid's city, back before the lake had been an ocean. Smooth rocks, abandoned jewelry, even some trinkets left from their early living covered the ground which they approached together. The woman's eyes shined as she looked about the place, somewhere that Albus had been many different times. She even so much as got out of the water to look in the almost cave-like structure.

Naturally Albus stayed behind, looked at what was available to him, undeniably meaning her. Oh, she was beautiful. Gorgeous dark hair, virginal skin, and a perfect figure were all assets which sucked him towards her. He knew that if she turned around, she'd have those silver eyes, staring at the man playfully.

He couldn't lie about what happened next, even if he wanted to. While Albus generally pretended to be strong, he was no different than any other man; he wanted her. The man got slowly of the water and approached the woman, gently sliding his hand over her shoulder to cup her breast. He could feel her shudder a cool, needy wave of excitement. His other hand gently moved away her long hair from her neck while his mouth went to it like a magnet.

"Albus," she moaned as his now free hand traced down her stomach.

"Let me make love to you," he whispered into her ear. He needed her in that moment, that beautiful woman. In all truth, the man didn't believe that he'd ever ache to release himself upon a girl, not nearly as badly as he was. He felt as if he'd explode unless he drove himself into her. Merlin knows he did a good job of letting her know that too, pressing his waist to hers.

"Where?" she whispered hoarsely.

A smile crossed his face. The rocks around them were too damn perfect for words; he spoke slowly into her ear. "Back in the water."

She turned to look at him, a mix of passion and confusion on her face. "Water?"

The grin grew wider. He pushed his mouth to hers, enveloping it completely. His hands followed down her waist and to the bottom-most part of her back. The man grasped the tip of her thighs and lifted her up to where her legs were wrapped around him. Then he took only a few steps, too few to really take notice of, and pressed her against the flat rock at the edge of the lake.

Albus blinked slowly to himself in real life, knowing it would be wrong of him to go any farther. In recent years, he had been making love to a faceless woman; his new fantasy was not as such. Minerva. It had only been a few days, really just one and a half, yet…he wanted her. Albus rarely wanted to bed anyone, but he was vehement for her, wanting nothing more than to ravish her on the floor, bed, kitchen, shore.

She was beautiful and intelligent; the perfect combination. Albus could not say no to his primal instincts in regards to Minerva; there was just something about her. The man could not put his finger on what it exactly was, but she held his attention like no woman had. Maybe it was her laugh, or voice…or her face…or her eyes. He could drown in those eyes and not care whether or not he came back to life. Albus could just die if her stare was the last thing he ever saw and be a happy man.

He couldn't develop a relationship with her, he knew, not to the extent that he wanted; in any case, he didn't even have the obligation to romance the woman. Minerva was attacked often enough by idiot men; it was not his position to take their place. To pass the time, Albus simply decided that he would sit and contemplate and dream. Though he had to admit…well, God, she was beautiful.


Minerva walked back along the river's edge towards her house. There was a new rush of waves, which there had seemed to a lack of earlier in the day. The swish of the water hitting the rocks echoed in her brain as soft, repetitive notes.

The woman looked out towards the lake for movement.

There was someone in the middle of the mass, floating and kicking. A gentle smile crossed the woman's face. It was Albus. He was out swimming, the crazy man. She liked him for that though—his fanatical ways. The water was not only littered with leaves and twigs, but it was still early enough in the day to where it would be absolutely freezing to so much as put in a toe. Minerva didn't believe that she would be surprised if he received a cold within the next few days.

With a grin on her face, she approached the dock by her house and sat at the edge. She watched him float for a manner of minutes, though he didn't seem to be too utterly coordinated in the water, tossing and turning every now and then in awkward strokes. Why, it seemed as if he were a fish who had suddenly forgotten how to swim. Minerva giggled thoughtfully to herself. It would be rather entertaining if she were to turn him into a fish…she wondered delightedly whether he'd be able to navigate his way to her dock. And, if this amazing event occurred, she'd watch him flail about, unable to demand her to change him back.

Maybe she could grab a hook and a strand of wire to see what he did…

The woman rolled her eyes. It had been a very long time since she had such a very amusing idea. Maybe it was the man who brought it out of her. After all, he was an unconventional person who, at the same moment, was too utterly normal to even speak of it. Really now, who asked someone what they thought of rain in an everyday conversation? But, she argued, perhaps it was something that ought to be asked; life's moments shouldn't be margined by family, work, and salutations.

Minerva continued to stare out at the lake. She blinked to herself after about five minutes, suddenly realizing that there was no Albus visible in the water. Her heart sank and body grew rigid. He'd been in the middle of the lake—there was no way that he could have swum to his home and out of sight so very quickly.

The woman stood up from where she had been sitting and looked out onto the water for the man. There wasn't a ripple or a wave, nothing that would indicate any movement whatsoever. The place was silent, save for the rapid beating inside the woman's head. Thump. Thump. Thump.

She called for him loudly, bringing her hands to her mouth, "Albus! Albus! Albuuuuuus!" Nothing. No response came. With that, her breath grew tight, so tight that she could barely breathe. She pulled out her wand with shaking hands. Millions of spells flooded through her mind but none seemed correct; it was as if mix-matched puzzle pieces have found their way into her head and couldn't be put together. Frantically, she looked everywhere she could to be reminded of what she needed. Then it came to her. She raised her wand and opened her mouth slowly, "Di—"

Swish.

The woman looked over herself, suddenly covered in water from head to toe. Then she sought the instigator of the flood, who ironically, was only a person's length away from her on the side of the dock. He was laughing at her—a full belly shaking laugh. His cries of amusement echoed loudly in her ears.

"Albus!" she yelled angrily, bringing her fisted hands to the side of her. "You bloody git!"

The man covered his mouth, though did not cease the laughter. "Now Minerva," he chuckled, "I do believe you've been caught."

"And I do believe you've just gotten me soaked!" She stood at the dock and glared at the man. Why in hell had she just been thinking about how wonderful a person he was? She was covered from head to toe in water while wearing not robes, not even a dress, but a sleeping gown! "Look at me!" she yelled.

"I am looking," he continued to smile, "And you've been spying on me for the last ten minutes."

She folded her arms over her chest, quite aware of how cold she was. Minerva glared at the man, keeping all words that were flooding through her head away from her lips. It wasn't long at all before his smile started to fade. It wasn't funny.

She had thought he'd drowned…and instead he had been swimming to the shore in an attempt to have some fun. Well, what fun had he accomplished? She was soaked and angry, and he was no longer on her good side. "I'm glad this was amusing to you," she said quietly, "But not all of us share your sense of humor," she said in a boldly cynical way.

With that, she began walking in the direction of her house. The dirt sloshed underneath her sopping wet shoes with every step she took. When she looked back, there were mud tracks leading all the way up to her point of existence—it made her all the more angry to see it—damn men—there was a reason she stayed away from them.

Somewhere in the distance she could hear her name being called by Albus, vaguely audible. She just shook her head and kept on walking—though it didn't do much good. Somehow, the voice got closer to her along with hard lunges. She made no attempt whatsoever to speed up her pace, although she certainly should have. The man's hand grabbed hers and pulled her back.

"I'm sorry," he said kindly enough.

Minerva blinked, not particularly wanting to talk to him at the moment. Something else, however, took hold of her besides the anger that he had brought upon the woman. She was suddenly looking at…a man. Water dripped from his red hair—which was near his blue eyes—and onto his chest. The drops then followed a carefully made path to his knickers. The woman looked up at his face and swallowed. A handsome intellectual; that's how she'd thought of him when she was at Hogwarts.

"That wasn't very considerate of you," she whispered slowly.

"I know," he nodded, "It was a bad idea that just popped into my head. You know how people do dumb things when ideas come to mind."

She nodded.

Minerva took a step away from the man, suddenly very conscious of how near she was to him. She knew what sort of trouble could arise if she stood close to him for very long. It wasn't that she didn't trust Albus; the woman didn't trust herself.


It's out there.

Review please? I've never a) written any sort of violent scene and b) been so scared from reading my own writing. lol.

No, seriously…an attraction has finally been established. And don't worry…next chapter will pick up right from here.

—Minni