Post by mercifulheavens on Jan 16, 2009 9:01:28 GMT -5
~Over the Hills and Far Away~
I accepted a challenge from kissofdeath... Nightwish owns the song, kissofdeath owns the challenge and I own comments/reviews... so please leave them!
Note- This story had only been edited once, so if you see any mistakes, please inform me, so I may correct them.
+13 for references to torture, adultery and memory invasion.
They came for him one winter's night.
Arrested, he was bound.
They said there'd been a robbery,
His pistol had been found.
The dirty figure of a man leaned heavily against his prison wall. The continuous tormenting drip of a leaky pipe had robbed him of sleep the night before and now he closed his eyes in a vain attempt to rest. Images flashed before his eyes; his daily demons haunting him.
They marched him to the station house,
He waited till the dawn.
And as they led him to the dock,
He knew that he'd been wronged.
"You stand accused of robbery,"
He heard the bailiff say.
He knew without an alibi,
Tomorrow's light would mourn his freedom.
He had not committed the crime; but it had been his word against a far more respected man's word. More respected was as true as the fact that he had committed the crime, as the man was respected only by Ministry standards. And if anyone knew as much as he did about the Ministry, they would quickly see that the standard was quite low.
Over the hills and far away,
For ten long years he'll count the days.
Over the mountains and the seas,
A prisoner's life for him there'll be.
Albus coughed loudly, his body having borne the brunt of living under conditions that would have animal rights protectors up in arms. He wasn't an animal; was he? Sometimes between the beatings and the food that was unfit to eat, he wondered if perhaps it was all a nightmare. But he never woke up.
The night they had arrested him. He closed his eyes as it was a painful memory. He had been dragged in front of the Ministry and told that if he could provide a witness of where he had been the night of the robbery; he would be pardoned. Their logic was flawed, but since he had had no plans to produce that said witness, it hadn't really mattered.
He knew that it would cost him dear,
But yet he dare not say.
Just where he'd been that fateful night,
A secret it must stay.
He had to fight back tears of rage.
His heart beat like a drum.
For with the wife of his best friend,
He spent his final night of freedom.
It had been a passionate final night. Despite the fact that he was paying for the price of adultery and silence in an ironic way, he was not sorry that he had done it. A smile, for a time forgotten, appeared on his gaunt face. She had been so lovely and her husband had been so foul... had he needed another reason? Would he do it over again, same as before? The answer was written on the very walls he leaned against. He had done it again and again. Memories of it haunted him.
But it was not the memory of the woman that he had been imprisoned for that his heart and soul longed to return to. She was another man's wife; terrible as the man was. His heart belonged to a woman with a purer heart and more loyal affections.
Over the hills and far away,
He swears he will return one day.
Far from the mountains and the seas,
Back in her arms again he'll be.
Over the hills and far away.
He staggered away from the wall; looking up at his only luxury. The window is small and he has to quint his eyes and it hurts to do so. He sees nothing out of the window save several naked, lonely hills. Someday, he thinks softly, I'll pass those hills.
Over the hills and,
Over the hills and,
Over the hills and far away.
And then as he lays his head down on the tattered remains of what he supposed used to be a pillow, he is sorry. Sorry that he slept with the woman; sorry that he is in prison.
The door creaks open and one of the guards drops a white torn envelope on the floor. He slowly crawls out of his bed and picks it up. The letter inside of the dirty sheath is not torn and he holds it up to read in the dim light from the window.
Dear Albus,
I went to speak to the Minister yesterday and was thrilled to hear that you will be released soon. Headmaster Dippet is looking forward to retiring and since his eye sight is quite poor, he asked me to ask to if you would consider reclaiming your position as Deputy Headmaster. As you have already figured out, when he retires, that means that you will become the Headmaster.
I look forward to seeing you soon.
Sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Transfiguration Professor of Hogwarts
He sighed deeply. Would he ever be able to forgive himself? The letters usually begged him to stay strong and reminded him of how much she thought about him. But always as a friend.
Each night within his prison cell,
He looks out through the bars.
He reads the letters that she wrote.
One day he'll know the taste of freedom.
For one of the brightest women in the age, Minerva McGonagall was quite dim when it came to her best friend. But as soon as he thought that thought he retracted it. He didn't want her to love him. He wasn't worth loving.
Now he was losing his mind, he thought sadly. His memories were all tangled and woven together with his miserable existence. He didn't remember the crime, the adultery, or even her face.
It was all as if he was two people; each one not him but someone wicked and cruel.
Over the hills and far away,
She prays he will return one day.
As sure as the rivers reach the seas,
Back in his arms again she'll be.
Minerva McGonagall paced the room where she had been told to wait. It had already been several hours and she longed to be able to blast the door away and rush into the prison. It was not Azkaban, but any prison was bad, be it infamous or not. Only weeks and long grueling hours of begging had allowed Albus to be put in a prison besides Azkaban. She had done that for him and would do much more, due to the fact that she loved him.
Over the hills and far away,
He swears he will return one day.
As sure as the river reach the seas,
Back in his arms is where she'll be.
"McGonagall." Someone barked, causing the pacing witch to turn. Almost running to the door, Minerva answered the warden.
"Yes!"
"Sign here for custody of Albus Dumbledore." A sheet of paper was shoved out through a crack in the door and a bloodquill followed soon after. Without hesitation, Minerva scribbled her name across the bottom of the page, ignoring the pain that came as the quill used her blood to make the marking.
"Wait!" the warden barked again, taking the paper back. And that was all she could do.
Over the hills and far away,
She prays he will return one day.
As sure as the rivers reach the sea,
Back in her arms is where he'll be.
Albus felt several pairs of strong arms lift him from where his body had slumped over; defeated from the high doses of drugs and the aftershocks of spells.
"Some woman's here to git ya." an unknown guard drawled as Albus was dragged rather roughly into another room.
He felt his dirty tattered robes be pulled from his body, but thought better against saying anything. Cold water splashed hard against his naked skin and a hard-bristled brush began tearing away at the back and chest. He gritted his teeth together as pain ripped its way up his body. It seemed to last as long as his imprisonment had; forever.
Finally he stood, held limply between two guards, clean but raw from the harsh scrubbing. He heard a snipping sound and felt tangled dirt caked hair fall down from his beard and head. Soon he was as a sheared sheep; naked and helpless.
A thick robe was pulled over his head and he smiled softly as the small but nonetheless present sense of dignity returned to him.
No sooner had he felt the robes ties pull tightly in a knot behind him, he was dragged forward until he was dropped in front of a door with a lined crack near its middle.
He would be going over those hills soon, he thought. Far away and back to the only woman who would not betray him.
Over the hills,
Over the hills and far away.
Minerva gasped and had to grab the wall to keep herself upright, when two guards dragged a man into the room. It was not Albus Dumbledore; it couldn't be. Yet it was.
She stared at him; her green eyes noting the shorn beard and hair, the red, raw skin and distant blank eyes. He looked so frail and hurt; like a small boat tossed amid an ocean's angry waves.
"McGonagall!" The warden bellowed. Minerva turned to him, her movements slowed greatly by the shock of seeing her husband, the strongest man she had ever known, cut down to a unrecognizable... she didn't want to think about what he looked like.
The warden sniffed as if he had smelt something foul and strode over to pull Albus to his feet. Minerva uttered a small cry as Albus gritted his teeth in a vain effort to not show the pain the warden had inflicted by yanking him up off the floor like a dead fish.
"Here." The warden chortled, shoving a partially conscious Dumbledore at her. She staggered as his weight hit her full in the chest, but managed to stay upright. Carefully wrapping her arms around him, she used every ounce of her strength to keep him off the floor.
Thankfully, she apparated only moments after having Albus thrown at her and was then able to drag him over to her sitting room couch.
"My poor love," she whispered, lovingly wrapping a thick blanket about his shaking form.
"Minerva." he breathed, his eyes opening to stare up at her. For a brief moment, their twinkle returned.
"Hush." she murmured. "You are safe know. The Ministry will never touch you again."
"The hills." Albus muttered, grabbing his wife's arms. "I'm free." he gasped. Minerva felt tears begin to drip down her cheeks. Whatever they had done to him in that hell-within-walls must have been beyond imagination.
She knew that they had forced memories into his mind; blocked off good ones and concentrated on bad ones. But somehow, he had managed to remember her. It was heartbreaking and wonderful all at the same time.
"Did I do the crime?" Albus asked, his mind not letting him rest until it had answers.
Minerva shook her head.
"No, you didn't do anything." she answered patiently.
"Did I sleep with another woman?"
This surprised her, but she knew the answer.
"No, you didn't."
Albus forced his aching body to sit up on the soft couch. His eyes were having trouble adjusting to the brightly lit sitting room, but his mind was slowly gathering truth about it.
"Where did I spend the night before I was arrested?"
"You were with me, Albus. You were "arrested" in the middle of the night. We were playing chess."
Albus sighed deeply as the healing balm of undistorted memories flooded his mind. He began to remember long enjoyable games of chess, frequent walks by the lake and hours of simply hold each other under a moonlit night.
"I love you so much." Albus sobbed, pulling his newly-remembered wife into his embrace. It was already growing stronger as his magic and power returned to his weary body, soul and mind. Minerva allowed him to hold her tightly, despite the fact that soon he was holding her too tightly and she had never fully recovered from the stunner attack several years ago.
"Albus, I've missed you so much." she whimpered, burying her tearstained face in his robe front. His grip about her body loosened greatly and she smiled. Despite his pain and emotional trauma, he still cared about her own pain.
"Voldemort?" Albus asked, almost afraid of what the answer might be.
"Dead." she muttered. Albus relaxed greatly at her answer.
"I am tired, Minerva." he groaned, moving his shaking hands over his wife's black hair. It was streaked with grey and white, but he only saw the raven black that it had formerly been.
"As am I." Minerva sighed.
They remained on the couch until both of them came to the realization that they were not as young as they used to be. Albus and Minerva both dragged their weary bodies into their bedroom and collapsed on the large bed. He wrapped his arms securely about his wife and she pulled the covers over them.
His last thoughts before drifting off to a memory free sleep were about those hills that he would never have to see again. He was far away; safe and loved.
The End
