Post by tartantabbycat on Aug 15, 2005 0:32:12 GMT -5
Title: The Power
Rating: R for violence
Summary: Voldemort returns, and in a vicious battle, he captures Minerva.
All Minerva McGonagall could hear was the rapid pounding of her heart and the wind whistling past her ears as she pressed her back against a tree and breathed—waiting only long enough to ascertain the distance and speed of the encroaching danger. The sounds of other witches and wizards in the same situation met Minerva’s ears. She wanted to scream, wanted to weep her fear and sadness into the puffs of air as they issued from her mouth into the cool winter air but she didn’t dare. Her adversary could smell her, see her, she could almost feel his breath on her neck and it made her more anxious than before. Voldemort was there. Somewhere. Frantically, Minerva scanned the area. Nothing. Too quiet. Where was he?
From the back of the tree, a pair of icy, steely hands grabbed for her shoulders and Minerva screamed, tearing free of the grasp, leaving shreds of her robe like fallen leaves on the ground. Running as fast as she possibly could, she darted from tree to tree, her hair fallen from its customary bun, and her spectacles were dangling perilously close to the end of her nose. The thin gold spectacle chain that Albus had given her for her birthday was back in the castle on her nightstand. She hadn’t wanted to lose it. It had been such a thoughtful gift that she had been wearing her glasses longer than she usually did in order to use it.
Only minutes passed before Minerva tripped over a tree root and went sprawling to the lightly packed snow. She rolled over onto her back, her hands and skirt covered in mud and snow. Voldemort descended onto her like an owl on a frightened mouse. The Dark Lord held one of her wrists tightly in his hand, pushing it to the ground. Her other hand was pinned beneath the weight of the evil wizard’s knee. He applied more weight to it and Minerva cried out as the bone snapped. Voldemort pulled a knife from inside his robes, and a defenseless Minerva gasped in fear.
“No!” Minerva shouted, “Please, God, no! Not like this!” In one quick, precise movement, Voldemort swept the knife across Minerva’s neck and disapparated. He had done the damage he had come to do. The only wizard he ever feared was about to lose the only woman he ever loved.
Minerva lay still on the ground. Shock swept over her and she clutched the ground, afraid to reach for her neck for fear that it would confirm what she thought Voldemort had done. She tried to breathe, but she kept inhaling her own blood and choking on it. Even when she mustered enough breath to cry out, it hurt so badly that all that came out was a raspy whisper.
“Albus!” she managed, sure that he didn’t hear her. How could he? All the noise she heard in the distance was certainly closer to him than she was. Minerva stared up at the sky, watching as the snow fell and kissed her face. She was going to die out here, all alone. She was going to die.
Minerva began to listen. She heard the soft blustering of the wind as it blew over her and she could hear her own breath. It was getting shallower, reduced to asthmatic sounding gasps for oxygen. The tree tops created a sort of canopy above her, letting the snow fall like delicate little dancers down to decorate her robes. She blinked away the snow in her eyes and let her eyelids fall shut for a moment. Suddenly, she awoke in a field of knee-high yellow grass and wildflowers. She could hear her father calling.
“Minerva! Where are you?”
“I’m coming, Papa!” she cried, getting up and starting to walk back toward a small house nestled into the Scottish countryside.
“I’m coming, Papa!” a whispery, choked voice called out. The wizard looking for her was only yards away, looking frantically in every direction.
“Minerva! Minerva! Merlin’s beard…MINERVA!” Albus Dumbledore shouted. Spotting the trail again, he found the place where Minerva had tripped and seconds later fell to his knees beside her, horrified by what he saw.
“Minerva, wake up!” he ordered, lifting her into his arms. For a few moments, her eyes fluttered open.
“Albus?” she wheezed, “Albus, I love you,”
“Hold on, my darling, please!” he begged as Minerva choked on another spattering of blood. Albus retrieved a small glass bottle from his robes and uncorked it. Carefully, he poured it across Minerva’s neck and broken wrist, ardently praying as it hissed and crackled and Minerva coughed and sputtered.
“Breathe, Minerva,” he encouraged her, “Please, I know it hurts. Minerva you must try! Breathe, Minerva, breathe!”
Minerva took one or two more valiant breaths and closed her eyes. The wheezing sound of her breath was fading. She could hear a giggling as she drew nearer to the sunlit yard. Her little brother was playing with his toy wagon and horse. She smiled. He was so darling like that.
“Minerva, breathe!” Albus commanded, shaking her firmly. Albus stared in disbelief. Mouth open, eyes wide in fear, shock and heartbreak all rolled into one. He couldn’t feel Minerva’s breath.
“No!” he whimpered, “Minerva? Minerva, no! Come back! Come back to me I can’t live without you! Please, Minerva! Minerva come back! Come back! I love you!” The fearless Headmaster of Hogwart’s buried his face in the robes of his Deputy Headmistress and began to sob. He pulled her into his arms and rocked as he cried, unable to convince himself that this was real. He lifted his face to the hidden late afternoon sun and howled, tears streaking his face and wetting his beard and moustache. He once again buried his face in her cloak, supporting her head with one hand and clutching her against him with every ounce of the heartbreak he was feeling. His sobbing seemed to be reaching no one. No one came, no one ran to their aid. For the first time in his life, Albus Dumbledore wanted the Dark Lord that he had fought for so long to come back. He wanted not the revenge that most would seek, but he wanted Voldemort to kill him. He wanted the man that had destroyed his life to come back and finish the job. The phoenix tears that Albus had poured on Minerva’s wounds had been too late, and now he would never know if she had died knowing how much he truly loved her. The pain was just too much.
Minutes passed as the still silent snow fell on the two, Albus sobbing and clutching the still body of the one woman who completely understood him and loved him anyway. How could any benevolent God do this to him?
Suddenly, Minerva’s body gave a lurch and shook violently as she began to gasp and cough for air. Albus jerked his head up and straightened his grip on her to look into her face. She was squeezing her eyes tightly and couldn’t seem to get control of her breath. She had to relax, but how to help her? Desperate for some solution, Albus held her close and kissed her. Slowly, Minerva began to breath through her nose and her breathing pattern evened out. She reached a weakened hand up to touch Albus’ face, and he leaned back, allowing her to breath through both her mouth and nose again, now that she had regained control.
Speechless, Minerva looked up at her savior and cried. He wrapped his arms around her and held her as she began to sob, taking deep, relieved breaths as she cried. Albus wept in return as he rocked her.
“Oh, Minerva,” he murmured to her, his tears falling to her body in large drops, “I was so sure I’d lost you!”
“For a moment there, you did,” Minerva answered, her voice still a little groggy and hoarse. It was Albus’ turn to be speechless.
“I heard you say that you loved me, and I knew I couldn’t die yet,” she said, “I was so happy to be with my father again, to be a child again, but I heard your voice…” she trailed off as she began to cry again.
“I heard you crying and begging me to come back and I knew it wasn’t my time,” she wept, stroking his face with her hand. Albus covered her hand with his and kissed it.
“It wouldn’t have been living without you, Minerva. I was ready to die here myself to be with you,” Minerva closed her eyes and pulled herself closer to Albus’ face. She could almost touch her nose to his and she could feel his breath hot on her face.
“Now, you listen to me,” Minerva said, her rational side kicking in, “when it is time for us to die, you will never be without me.” Albus’ blue eyes were wet with emotion as Minerva made one more demand, “Now, if you don’t mind, I would like you to kiss me again. I don’t think I’ve felt a rush like that in decades.”
With this, mutual love’s first enchanting kiss, Minerva put into power a charm stronger than the most terrible of dark wizardry. Her love would go with Albus everywhere he went, protecting him and keeping him until the time came for him to naturally die. The same would go for her. The undisguised admiration and adoring love that he felt would cover her and protect her from harm until she was ready to take him with her, and finally go home. They would go together. Nothing on earth is as powerful as love.
Alternate Ending
Summary: More graphic and so much sadder!
“Minerva, breath!” Albus commanded, shaking her firmly. Albus stared in disbelief. Mouth open, eyes wide in fear, shock and heartbreak all rolled into one. He couldn’t feel Minerva’s breath.
“No!” he whimpered, “Minerva? Minerva, no! Come back! Come back to me I can’t live without you! Please, Minerva! Minerva come back! Come back! I love you!” The fearless Headmaster of Hogwart’s buried his face in the robes of his Deputy Headmistress and began to sob. He pulled her into his arms and rocked as he cried, unable to convince himself that this was real. He lifted his face to the hidden late afternoon sun and howled, tears streaking his face and wetting his beard and moustache. He once again buried his face in her cloak, supporting her head with one hand and clutching her against him with every ounce of the heartbreak he was feeling. His sobbing seemed to be reaching no one. No one came, no one ran to their aid. For the first time in his life, Albus Dumbledore wanted the Dark Lord that he had fought for so long to come back. He wanted not the revenge that most would seek, but he wanted Voldemort to kill him. He wanted the man that had destroyed his life to come back and finish the job. The phoenix tears that Albus had poured on Minerva’s wounds had been too late, and now he would never know if she had died knowing how much he truly loved her. The pain was just too much.
Minutes passed as the still silent snow fell on the two, Albus sobbing and clutching the still body of the one woman who completely understood him and loved him anyway. How could any benevolent God do this to him?
Seconds passed like stones dropping into his stomach. She was gone. The surrealism set like a heavy fog on them as he knelt there. This couldn’t be! Phoenix tears have never failed to heal someone! He looked at the glass vial beside him that had held the tears. He poured a small amount into the cut on his hand and watched. The substance hissed and crackled, just as it had with Minerva, but it didn’t heal nearly as quickly as it should have. Had the tears of some weaker creature gotten into the vial with those of Fawkes? Albus carefully placed Minerva on the ground and another sob wracked his body. This time, he turned his face to the sky and screamed out as tears poured over his cheeks and down into his beard.
“VOLDEMORT!” Albus screamed, “VOLDEMORT! COME BACK AND FINISH WHAT YOU STARTED YOU FILTHY, EVIL, DEMON!” He looked about in suspense, waiting for Voldemort to return. Nothing. Only the wind played with the branches on the trees around him.
“KILL ME, YOU MONSTER! KILL ME! KI—”
The last of Albus’ outburst was cut short as he froze, eyes wide open and mouth agape. He bent over Minerva’s body, once again pulling her into his arms with what remained of his strength, and closed his eyes. Forever. Steam rose from a burn in his back where the spell had made contact,
“As I told you, and that pitiful boy, Potter, there is no good and evil. There is only power, and those too weak to take it. You and that ridiculous woman. Killing her was a pleasure,” Voldemort said, his voice making frost grow on the trees. Voldemort turned away from them, his black cape flapping in the wind and left them there. Finally able to rest. No more war, no more persecution, no more haunting fear. Dumbledore’s last, shuddering breath came forth in a puff of condensation in the chilly air and everything went black.
Rating: R for violence
Summary: Voldemort returns, and in a vicious battle, he captures Minerva.
All Minerva McGonagall could hear was the rapid pounding of her heart and the wind whistling past her ears as she pressed her back against a tree and breathed—waiting only long enough to ascertain the distance and speed of the encroaching danger. The sounds of other witches and wizards in the same situation met Minerva’s ears. She wanted to scream, wanted to weep her fear and sadness into the puffs of air as they issued from her mouth into the cool winter air but she didn’t dare. Her adversary could smell her, see her, she could almost feel his breath on her neck and it made her more anxious than before. Voldemort was there. Somewhere. Frantically, Minerva scanned the area. Nothing. Too quiet. Where was he?
From the back of the tree, a pair of icy, steely hands grabbed for her shoulders and Minerva screamed, tearing free of the grasp, leaving shreds of her robe like fallen leaves on the ground. Running as fast as she possibly could, she darted from tree to tree, her hair fallen from its customary bun, and her spectacles were dangling perilously close to the end of her nose. The thin gold spectacle chain that Albus had given her for her birthday was back in the castle on her nightstand. She hadn’t wanted to lose it. It had been such a thoughtful gift that she had been wearing her glasses longer than she usually did in order to use it.
Only minutes passed before Minerva tripped over a tree root and went sprawling to the lightly packed snow. She rolled over onto her back, her hands and skirt covered in mud and snow. Voldemort descended onto her like an owl on a frightened mouse. The Dark Lord held one of her wrists tightly in his hand, pushing it to the ground. Her other hand was pinned beneath the weight of the evil wizard’s knee. He applied more weight to it and Minerva cried out as the bone snapped. Voldemort pulled a knife from inside his robes, and a defenseless Minerva gasped in fear.
“No!” Minerva shouted, “Please, God, no! Not like this!” In one quick, precise movement, Voldemort swept the knife across Minerva’s neck and disapparated. He had done the damage he had come to do. The only wizard he ever feared was about to lose the only woman he ever loved.
Minerva lay still on the ground. Shock swept over her and she clutched the ground, afraid to reach for her neck for fear that it would confirm what she thought Voldemort had done. She tried to breathe, but she kept inhaling her own blood and choking on it. Even when she mustered enough breath to cry out, it hurt so badly that all that came out was a raspy whisper.
“Albus!” she managed, sure that he didn’t hear her. How could he? All the noise she heard in the distance was certainly closer to him than she was. Minerva stared up at the sky, watching as the snow fell and kissed her face. She was going to die out here, all alone. She was going to die.
Minerva began to listen. She heard the soft blustering of the wind as it blew over her and she could hear her own breath. It was getting shallower, reduced to asthmatic sounding gasps for oxygen. The tree tops created a sort of canopy above her, letting the snow fall like delicate little dancers down to decorate her robes. She blinked away the snow in her eyes and let her eyelids fall shut for a moment. Suddenly, she awoke in a field of knee-high yellow grass and wildflowers. She could hear her father calling.
“Minerva! Where are you?”
“I’m coming, Papa!” she cried, getting up and starting to walk back toward a small house nestled into the Scottish countryside.
“I’m coming, Papa!” a whispery, choked voice called out. The wizard looking for her was only yards away, looking frantically in every direction.
“Minerva! Minerva! Merlin’s beard…MINERVA!” Albus Dumbledore shouted. Spotting the trail again, he found the place where Minerva had tripped and seconds later fell to his knees beside her, horrified by what he saw.
“Minerva, wake up!” he ordered, lifting her into his arms. For a few moments, her eyes fluttered open.
“Albus?” she wheezed, “Albus, I love you,”
“Hold on, my darling, please!” he begged as Minerva choked on another spattering of blood. Albus retrieved a small glass bottle from his robes and uncorked it. Carefully, he poured it across Minerva’s neck and broken wrist, ardently praying as it hissed and crackled and Minerva coughed and sputtered.
“Breathe, Minerva,” he encouraged her, “Please, I know it hurts. Minerva you must try! Breathe, Minerva, breathe!”
Minerva took one or two more valiant breaths and closed her eyes. The wheezing sound of her breath was fading. She could hear a giggling as she drew nearer to the sunlit yard. Her little brother was playing with his toy wagon and horse. She smiled. He was so darling like that.
“Minerva, breathe!” Albus commanded, shaking her firmly. Albus stared in disbelief. Mouth open, eyes wide in fear, shock and heartbreak all rolled into one. He couldn’t feel Minerva’s breath.
“No!” he whimpered, “Minerva? Minerva, no! Come back! Come back to me I can’t live without you! Please, Minerva! Minerva come back! Come back! I love you!” The fearless Headmaster of Hogwart’s buried his face in the robes of his Deputy Headmistress and began to sob. He pulled her into his arms and rocked as he cried, unable to convince himself that this was real. He lifted his face to the hidden late afternoon sun and howled, tears streaking his face and wetting his beard and moustache. He once again buried his face in her cloak, supporting her head with one hand and clutching her against him with every ounce of the heartbreak he was feeling. His sobbing seemed to be reaching no one. No one came, no one ran to their aid. For the first time in his life, Albus Dumbledore wanted the Dark Lord that he had fought for so long to come back. He wanted not the revenge that most would seek, but he wanted Voldemort to kill him. He wanted the man that had destroyed his life to come back and finish the job. The phoenix tears that Albus had poured on Minerva’s wounds had been too late, and now he would never know if she had died knowing how much he truly loved her. The pain was just too much.
Minutes passed as the still silent snow fell on the two, Albus sobbing and clutching the still body of the one woman who completely understood him and loved him anyway. How could any benevolent God do this to him?
Suddenly, Minerva’s body gave a lurch and shook violently as she began to gasp and cough for air. Albus jerked his head up and straightened his grip on her to look into her face. She was squeezing her eyes tightly and couldn’t seem to get control of her breath. She had to relax, but how to help her? Desperate for some solution, Albus held her close and kissed her. Slowly, Minerva began to breath through her nose and her breathing pattern evened out. She reached a weakened hand up to touch Albus’ face, and he leaned back, allowing her to breath through both her mouth and nose again, now that she had regained control.
Speechless, Minerva looked up at her savior and cried. He wrapped his arms around her and held her as she began to sob, taking deep, relieved breaths as she cried. Albus wept in return as he rocked her.
“Oh, Minerva,” he murmured to her, his tears falling to her body in large drops, “I was so sure I’d lost you!”
“For a moment there, you did,” Minerva answered, her voice still a little groggy and hoarse. It was Albus’ turn to be speechless.
“I heard you say that you loved me, and I knew I couldn’t die yet,” she said, “I was so happy to be with my father again, to be a child again, but I heard your voice…” she trailed off as she began to cry again.
“I heard you crying and begging me to come back and I knew it wasn’t my time,” she wept, stroking his face with her hand. Albus covered her hand with his and kissed it.
“It wouldn’t have been living without you, Minerva. I was ready to die here myself to be with you,” Minerva closed her eyes and pulled herself closer to Albus’ face. She could almost touch her nose to his and she could feel his breath hot on her face.
“Now, you listen to me,” Minerva said, her rational side kicking in, “when it is time for us to die, you will never be without me.” Albus’ blue eyes were wet with emotion as Minerva made one more demand, “Now, if you don’t mind, I would like you to kiss me again. I don’t think I’ve felt a rush like that in decades.”
With this, mutual love’s first enchanting kiss, Minerva put into power a charm stronger than the most terrible of dark wizardry. Her love would go with Albus everywhere he went, protecting him and keeping him until the time came for him to naturally die. The same would go for her. The undisguised admiration and adoring love that he felt would cover her and protect her from harm until she was ready to take him with her, and finally go home. They would go together. Nothing on earth is as powerful as love.
Alternate Ending
Summary: More graphic and so much sadder!
“Minerva, breath!” Albus commanded, shaking her firmly. Albus stared in disbelief. Mouth open, eyes wide in fear, shock and heartbreak all rolled into one. He couldn’t feel Minerva’s breath.
“No!” he whimpered, “Minerva? Minerva, no! Come back! Come back to me I can’t live without you! Please, Minerva! Minerva come back! Come back! I love you!” The fearless Headmaster of Hogwart’s buried his face in the robes of his Deputy Headmistress and began to sob. He pulled her into his arms and rocked as he cried, unable to convince himself that this was real. He lifted his face to the hidden late afternoon sun and howled, tears streaking his face and wetting his beard and moustache. He once again buried his face in her cloak, supporting her head with one hand and clutching her against him with every ounce of the heartbreak he was feeling. His sobbing seemed to be reaching no one. No one came, no one ran to their aid. For the first time in his life, Albus Dumbledore wanted the Dark Lord that he had fought for so long to come back. He wanted not the revenge that most would seek, but he wanted Voldemort to kill him. He wanted the man that had destroyed his life to come back and finish the job. The phoenix tears that Albus had poured on Minerva’s wounds had been too late, and now he would never know if she had died knowing how much he truly loved her. The pain was just too much.
Minutes passed as the still silent snow fell on the two, Albus sobbing and clutching the still body of the one woman who completely understood him and loved him anyway. How could any benevolent God do this to him?
Seconds passed like stones dropping into his stomach. She was gone. The surrealism set like a heavy fog on them as he knelt there. This couldn’t be! Phoenix tears have never failed to heal someone! He looked at the glass vial beside him that had held the tears. He poured a small amount into the cut on his hand and watched. The substance hissed and crackled, just as it had with Minerva, but it didn’t heal nearly as quickly as it should have. Had the tears of some weaker creature gotten into the vial with those of Fawkes? Albus carefully placed Minerva on the ground and another sob wracked his body. This time, he turned his face to the sky and screamed out as tears poured over his cheeks and down into his beard.
“VOLDEMORT!” Albus screamed, “VOLDEMORT! COME BACK AND FINISH WHAT YOU STARTED YOU FILTHY, EVIL, DEMON!” He looked about in suspense, waiting for Voldemort to return. Nothing. Only the wind played with the branches on the trees around him.
“KILL ME, YOU MONSTER! KILL ME! KI—”
The last of Albus’ outburst was cut short as he froze, eyes wide open and mouth agape. He bent over Minerva’s body, once again pulling her into his arms with what remained of his strength, and closed his eyes. Forever. Steam rose from a burn in his back where the spell had made contact,
“As I told you, and that pitiful boy, Potter, there is no good and evil. There is only power, and those too weak to take it. You and that ridiculous woman. Killing her was a pleasure,” Voldemort said, his voice making frost grow on the trees. Voldemort turned away from them, his black cape flapping in the wind and left them there. Finally able to rest. No more war, no more persecution, no more haunting fear. Dumbledore’s last, shuddering breath came forth in a puff of condensation in the chilly air and everything went black.
