True Nature

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Portofino, Italy, 1940

She tried to decide if the twinkling lights of the Muggle houses climbing the hill reminded her more of the bonfires along the Shannon on New Years or the parade of faerie folk that visited Hogwarts each spring. With this much champagne in her system, Minerva McGonagall couldn't really tell. With this much music in her soul, she really didn't care. Portofino was magical, Italy was magical, her life was magical. The Muggle war seemed so far away, especially here in this charming villa on this charming sea with so many utterly charming people asking her to dance.

"Cinderella is having fun, yes?" Gabriela Fiorenza, her hostess, stepped out onto the piazza to join her.

"Cinderella is having fun, yes," she replied, hoping her words didn't sound as dizzy as she was beginning to feel. She gratefully took the arm Gabi offered. "You are most kind, fairy godmother."

"A small price to pay for such a charming smile." At 44, Gabi was hardly old enough to be her mother, godmother, or any other maternal figure, but she accepted the compliment graciously. "You left poor Signor Andretti without a dance partner."

"And you left poor Signor Fioreza without a dance partner, too," Minerva countered. She stole the glass of champagne Gabi held. "And he's your husband. You should be ashamed of yourself."

"My husband is perfectly capable of taking care of himself, as you know." She smiled at the younger woman, a glorious set of perfect white teeth brightening her olive complexion. "I'm so happy Tonio invited you. He said you were bright and charming, and now I see why."

"I am bright and charming and more than slightly intoxicated," Minerva admitted this more to herself than to the other woman. "I hope I haven't embarrassed you or your guests too much."

"Nonsense. You've been nothing but enchanting. And I insist you stay for another day before returning to Genoa. Tonio and I want to show you the Cathedral, and we thought we'd show you the countryside in the afternoon."

Minerva shook her head, but the champagne was starting to give her a slight headache. She'd been a virtual church mouse since coming to work in Italy, going from her tiny flat to work and back, eating alone, and focusing all her tremendous energy on her career and moving on with her life. It wasn't like she had much else to do. Her family no longer spoke to her, thanks to her decision to accept financial help from her grandmother, who hadn't spoken to her mother since she'd married a Muggle. Her friends from Hogwarts had scattered to their own lives, and a year later all those hundreds of owls they'd sworn to write had simply dried up.

This party at Signor Fiorenza's was the first excitement she'd allowed herself since arriving in Italy, and only because her immediate supervisor had insisted she attend. Once in Portofino, however, she'd been mesmerized by the beauty and posh glamour of the place. She'd danced and flirted and drunk far too much champagne, and now she was beginning to feel the effects of it all. "I really should get back to Genoa."

"Tomorrow is Sunday. That old hound can't expect you to work on Sunday?"

"No, it's just," her head was spinning madly.

"You have someone to return to," Gabi prodded gently.

"No, nothing at all like that." The faerie parade was going off course. "It's just that I believe I'm going to be ill."

In a moment, she felt the older woman's warm hand on her forehead. No magic, no incantations - this was the Muggle wife of a wizard. She just laid her hand there, allowing its heat to soothe the vertigo that suddenly swept over Minerva. "Sit down here," she said, leading the girl to a cushioned patio chair that overlooked the sea. "I'll get Tonio."

"Please don't. He'll think me a complete ninny."

"He'll think nothing of the sort, or he'll sleep out here on the piazza." She was gone for only a minute, returning with a concerned Antonio on her arm.

Minerva squinted, not wanting to admit how grateful she was this happened out on the balcony rather than inside with the other guests. "I'm fine, really, Tony. I just...it's just the night air, I guess. And all the dancing. And the champagne." She could feel herself blushing as the older man examined her face and eyes. She focused on the soft line of gray at his temples.

Tonio smiled. "Too much butterbeer and not enough champagne for our friend from across the Channel?"

She couldn't tell if she was supposed to laugh, so she smiled noncommittally and shrugged.

"Can you apparate her to the Verona suite?" Gabi asked. "I'll speak to Sir Andrew, tell him she's a little under the weather and will spend the night here. Then I'll come up to check on her."

He agreed and, before Minerva could protest, Gabi was going back to the ballroom and she was vanishing into Tonio's apparation spell.

***

The Verona suite most certainly lived up to its name. Minerva stretched out amongst the satin sheets and goose down pillows, ignoring her slight hangover as the Italian sun beckoned her from dreams of dancing and faeries. She couldn't quite remember all the details of the night before, but she did remember a lovely faerie queen helping her into a lace dressing gown and settling her back on a cloud of pillows.

"Good morning." Antonio knocked on the door. "Can I come in?"

She pulled the comforter over her, sitting up too quickly. Her headache dug deeply into her skull as she groaned, "Of course. Please do."

He was carrying a tray of breakfast; complete with that wonderful strong Italian coffee she was developing an addiction to and a vase of fresh-picked flowers. "I thought you might be hungry," he explained as he placed the tray on one of the coffee tables and moved the table and a chair near the bed. "How was your first experience with Italian hospitality?"

"I believe I was somewhat of a glutton, and now I'm paying the price."

Tonio reached onto the tray and produced a small vial. "Perfect for the morning after. It's just a simple detoxification potion, but I promise you will feel better."

She took it gratefully and, in a single swallow, downed the entire bottle per Tonio's instructions. "Argh," she gasped at the taste. "That's awful."

"Well if the cure tasted good, people would get hangovers all the time, wouldn't they?" He lifted the cover from a plate to reveal a tempting plate of sausage, fresh tomato slices, and Eggs Benedict. There was enough food on the tray for at least four people. "This is the part of the cure that does taste good, I hope," he added.

She laughed. "Will Gabriela be joining us?

"Our son Marko woke up cross. He always does after a party. She will join us later in the morning for the visit to San Giorgio." He paused at her concerned look. "Is something wrong?"

Well, no, she thought, except that I'm sitting here in bed talking to a very handsome married man while his wife and son are just down the corridor. "No, nothing is wrong," she murmured. "Although I might feel a little less scandalous in a robe," she said with a smile.

Tonio, to her great relief, was immediately apologetic. "I'm so sorry. I did not think, Minerva. I shall go to the kitchen to get some...." He looked at the tray. There wasn't room for a single olive on that tray, and they both knew it. "Juice. I'll get some juice while you get dressed. And then we can have breakfast on the piazza together. Would you like that?"

She nodded fervently. The potion was starting to kick in, and she felt the beginning of a glorious day. "I'd like that very much."

He stood, pulling a wand out of his robe and waving it towards the tray with a few muttered words in Latin. Within moments, the tray had vanished and reappeared, she felt sure, on a table in the shade of the piazza's huge awning. He nodded quickly, and left her to dress in private.

When she finally made it down to the piazza, Gabriela was seated at the table with Tonio, dressed in a soft white linen dress that emphasized her dark hair and eyes. Marko was bundled in her arms, all pudgy and wide-eyed and beautiful in the way babies always are. "You made it," Minerva said, pleased.

"Yes, Marko decided to be polite today instead of mean-tempered."

Minerva joined them at the table, leaning over to place a tender kiss on the baby's forehead. "That's a very good boy, Marko."

"You look better," Tonio said, offering her a cup of espresso.

"I feel better," she agreed, reveling in the dark, almost burnt richness of the coffee. "What was in that potion you gave me?"

"Pure love and sweetness is what he always tells me," Gabi laughed. Marko cooed and hiccoughed against her chest as she lifted him up for his breakfast. "Does it matter if it works?"

"I guess not," Minerva said as she took the plate Tonio offered. "My goodness. Well, if I'm going to be sacked, at last I'm going to do so on a full stomach."

"You're not going to sacked," Tonio insisted as he lifted a bite of tomato to his lips.

"Sir Andrew sent an owl this morning to check on you and make sure you were making a speedy recovery," Gabriela added.

Minerva almost choked on her eggs. "Great gods and goddesses, what did you tell him? This is the man who almost sacked Hilary Needlespin for excessive absences. And he caught malaria in Panama."

Gabriela gave her the most innocent look Minerva had ever seen. "I told him you where having, and I quote, 'woman problems.'"

This time Minerva did choke, and cough, and laugh. "Oh, I wish I could have seen his portly little red face."

"I know wizards can fly," Gabriela said sweetly. "But I always thought they used brooms."

All three of them howled, and little Marko began to fuss and holler.

"Stay the whole day," Tonio said. "There are so few happy people in Italy anymore. Stay for just a day, will you? We'll apparate back to Genoa together on Monday morning, okay?"

"Please," Gabi added, taking Minerva's hand in hers.

Minerva looked from one lovely face to the other, and made her choice without hesitation. "I'll send an immediate owl to Sir Andrew, informing him that, due to my current condition," she grinned at Gabriela's knowing wink. "I may arrive just a little late on Monday morning."

***

Minerva's Chambers, 1970

"I spent many more glorious weekends at their villa in Portofino," Minerva said. "But eventually, even that golden coastline couldn't be spared intrusion by the Muggle war."

***

Italy, 1943

It was hot on the coast of the Genoan Gulf. Minerva thought of her childhood home in Ireland. County Clare, the village of Quin in particular, was snugly nestled between the Atlantic Ocean and the River Shannon, as far from the Ligurian Sea it seemed to her as the Earth from the Moon.

She'd left Genoa with the Fiorenzas before dawn, driving through the Appennine foothills toward their family home in Portofino. There were too many things to carry by broom or floo powder and Marko was too small to risk apparating, so Tonio had spelled the family car for protection and they motored through the treacherous terrain towards the relative safety of their villa.

It was only thirty-five kilometers from the magical capital in Genoa to the tiny coastal city, but with the Muggle war crashing around them, they were taking the journey as slowly and carefully as needed. Minerva had never dreamed she'd end up a refugee and a cultural pariah, but even the stately city of Genoa had become too dangerous for an Englishwoman abroad. Too stubborn to leave, especially as she had nowhere to go, she'd happily accepted Tonio's offer to stay with them when they left for the country.

"They say the Grand Council has turned against Il Duce," Tonio was saying. "It's only a matter of time before the Germans come."

"The Germans will never come to Italy," Gabriela insisted, her espresso curls flapping out from under the green scarf she wore against the wind. "They won't, will they, Minerva?"

Four year-old Marko twitched and squirmed in the back seat of the Chrysler as Gabriela turned her frightened coal eyes back towards Minerva for reassurance. Minerva pulled the boy next to her, holding him tightly against her. "I--uh..."

"The Germans will not come to Italy. The Americans and British have already landed in Sicily. Surely they won't let the Germans occupy Italy?"

Minerva felt the knot in her stomach growing larger with each kilometer. She shrugged, unable to say anything.

"The English and the Americans have problems of their own," Tonio continued. "We're the enemy, remember? Why would they protect us?"

He seemed to have no idea or concern for the effect his words would have on their English companion. Tonio's face was tight, anger and fear for his family anchoring deep in the recesses of his aristocratic features. "Minerva, tell her. Explain to her that they cannot risk losing what they have to protect us. We are on our own. When the Germans come, we will be ready for them. But we will have to do it alone."

She struggled for words. "I'm sure that, given time, the Allied forces will turn their attention to Italy. They will not condemn an entire people for the brutishness of their leaders." It seemed so empty and diplomatic. Minerva cursed her own inexperience, her own lack of connection and influence. She'd stayed on against the advise of Lord Pince-Hamilton, as he hurried the Embassy staff through portkeys towards England, towards Scotland and Wales and home. Now, though, she wondered what good she could possibly do here in the midst of all this chaos.

"Minerva?" Gabriela's eyes were focused on her.

"No, Gabi," she added softly. "The English will not abandon you. I assure you, I know this in my heart, Italy will not be lost."

She ignored Tonio's slight shake of the head. They both knew that if and when the English arrived, it might be too late for many of the Italians. But she couldn't bear to say that to her friend, this kind Muggle woman who placed so much faith in the magical community, which had, only recently, cut the line and run for home. It burned her soul, and she would not for a minute crush the last hope her friend had for home and family.

"No, Gabriela," she said in a much more confident tone. "I'm quite certain the Allied forces will have Italy long before Hitler's hand can close down on her."

***

Portofino, 1944

"Répétez après moi, s'il vous plait. Je m'appelle Marko."

"Je m'appelle Marko," the five year old lisped, his tightly curled head bobbing in emphasis. "Je t'aime, Taunte Minerva."

"Très bon et merci, mon petit cher." Minerva hugged him lightly. "Now in English, if you please."

"My name is Marko." He beamed, pushing himself into her arms for another hug. "I love you, Auntie Minerva."

She chuckled. "Very good, Marko."

They sat together in the solarium, overlooking the shore. Marko was already showing a talent for languages, as well as some latent magical abilities. Not to mention his father's innate charm and his mother's warmth and beautiful dark eyes. She brushed his curls, smiling down on him. "You must be hungry, Marko. It's been hours since lunch. Why don't you go down and ask Maria for a snack?"

"I want to stay with you," he replied, hugging her arm tightly. "I want to hear about the goddesses."

"The goddesses?"

"Your sisters."

She sighed, kissing the top of his head. "My sisters aren't goddesses, bambino, they're just named after goddesses. Aphrodite, the oldest, was named after the Greek goddess of Love and Beauty. Then there's Athena, after the goddess of wisdom. Artemis, the Huntress, Persephone, queen of the underworld, Demeter, goddess of the harvest, Hestia, hearth and home, and then there's me."

"The warrior queen." At her shocked laugh, he said, "That's what Papa says Minerva means."

"Your papa may want to spend more time reading classical mythology."

"And Baby Sophia." Marko added insistently

"Muse of wisdom, but not a baby anymore. She's almost twelve years old."

"Where's Hera?"

"What?" Minerva thought perhaps she'd misunderstood the child.

"In Mama's picture book, Hera was queen of the gods. Where is Hera?"

Minerva began to laugh. In all her years, it had never occurred to her to ask that question. "I don't know, bambino. I never asked." Perhaps her father, that darling eccentric man, wanting to spare his daughter the same fate as that particular goddess, had jumped ship from Greek to Roman to avoid any such marital unhappiness for his girls. If that were the case, she would have been next in line for Hera. Minerva rolled her eyes. No, better to stick with her Roman namesake.

"Marko, Maria has some oranges in the kitchen for you." Tonio stood in the doorway to the solarium, tall and handsome in his Muggle clothes. He caught the boy mid-air as he sprinted across the floor to jump into his father's arms. A big kiss and a pat on the bottom, and Marko was scooted out towards the kitchen and the promised treat. Tonio's smile faded as soon as the boy was out of earshot. "Thank you, Minerva, for keeping him busy. Normally, he's no problem, but when she has her attacks..."

"How is Gabi?" The concern was apparent on her face. "Did the potion help?"

Tonio shook his head negatively.

She crossed the distance to him, taking both his hands in hers. "I'm so sorry. Did the doctor say anything?"

"No, just that she's doing remarkably well, all things considered." He tried to keep the tiredness from his voice. "She wants to talk to you, in a few minutes, when she's rested up."

Minerva nodded. Gabriela's illness had been sudden and swift, a rare cancer of the blood that Muggle medicine couldn't touch. Magic, for some reason, could only stabilize her condition. They'd hoped the move to Portofino would help strengthen her. But the year had only brought a weakening of her condition, and the fresh sea air and sunshine only seemed to emphasize all the things Gabi was no longer able to do. Minerva fought the wave of depression by changing the subject. "Did you hear about The Port of Call?"

"Actually, the papers came through this morning." He squeezed her hands tightly. "Are you sure you want to do this? We can still get you out of the country and back to England. You can be free of this."

His hands were warm against hers, his scent soft and near to her. She steeled herself against his steady gaze, not liking the tenderness she saw there, nor what she felt in her own stomach and chest when he looked at her that way. "England is no safer than Italy, Tonio, and at least here I can do something." She dropped his hands. "Now, I'm going to freshen up before I see Gabi." She pushed past him gently, ignoring his hand brushing her shoulder as she went.

"I'll be up in a moment," he said. "I need to contact Angelo at the Ministry, or what's left of it. If you are staying, the Port of Call will be up and running within the month."

She turned to face him square on. "I'm staying. Now if you'll excuse me, I must be going."

She took the stairs two at a time up to Gabriela's room. After a quick look in the mirror at the end of the hall, she quietly entered the Master bedroom.

"Come in, darling girl." Gabriela lay in a bath of sunlight, surrounded by clean white linens, every window in the suite opened to the afternoon. A scent of ocean filled the room, and flowers brightened every surface available. The villa was a remnant of the days before the war, when Portofino was a mecca for artists and royalty, all wanting to flash their wealth on the Italian Riviera. Now, though, it seemed only Germans felt comfortable on the beaches and in the restaurants.

Minerva gazed at Gabriela for a moment. She was reminded of the fairy stories her Muggle grandmother used to tell, where the princess lay dying in her chamber of white while the nation mourned. She shook the image from her mind, pouring good old-fashioned primness around her like a cloak. "I hear you're still baffling modern medicine?" She sat next to Gabi on the bed, brushing the woman's hair from her shoulder. "You know we frown upon that where I come from."

"Where you come from, you think two types of sauce is enough for cooking." Gabi coughed, waving Minerva's concerned hand away as she regained composure. "Did he tell you want I wanted to talk about?"

"No, he didn't."

Gabi's eyes, sunken as they were in dark hollows, still managed to sparkle. "He will gladly face the Gestapo and Il Banda, but he won't talk to a friend about a serious subject."

"Men."

"I like them," Gabriela pushed upward until she was sitting upright against a mound of pillows. "And I think you do, too? Like men, that is."

"Ah..." Minerva was too stunned to speak. In all the time she'd spent with Gabi and Tonio, that particular subject had never been broached.

"Do you like men, Minerva?" Gabriela pressed.

"I, er..." The words were choking in her throat. Her only experience ever had been at Hogwarts, and that with a mad girl from Ravenclaw. She shook herself internally. The mere thought of Deanna Hooch was like salt in a wound. "I don't understand what this is all about."

"I've known you for four years now. You've never dated. You've never fallen in love. You seem content on your own, which is perfectly wonderful. But there is also a sadness about you that makes me think you've lost something very dear. I want to know if there is a broken heart I should be concerned about."

Something in Gabi's tone, something in her eyes cut straight through to Minerva's soul. She wanted to tell her about the hurt inside her. How she'd felt when she gotten the news that her first and only love had married the very boy she betrayed Minerva with. She wanted to pour her heart out and let this kind, dying woman heal the gash on her soul. But she couldn't. She couldn't bring herself. The ice hardened around her, and that was all she could be for now. "No. No broken hearts for this old girl." She forced lightness into her voice. "Gabi, I appreciate your concern for me. But I'm a career girl. I don't have time for romance and such nonsense."

"I want you to be Tonio's lover."

Minerva heard the words, but couldn't quite make them out over the din of the universe exploding in her ears. "Excuse me?" she asked.

This brought a fresh burst of laughter from the older woman. "I knew you'd be shocked. The English make such a big production of these things."

"I hardly think being shocked when your best friend asks you to become her husband's mistress is making a big production of things."

"Min," she said, stroking Minerva's waist gently with one hand while she held Minerva's hand in the other. "I know you like Tonio, and I know he finds you attractive. I haven't been able to be a real wife to him for almost two years. The sicker I grow, the less capable I am to perform. He says it does not bother him, but I know he is hungry for a woman's touch."

Minerva tried to pull away, but Gabriela's hand was surprisingly strong. "I don't know if I want to hear this."

"I know this is a shock, but it's my idea. Tonio is an extraordinary man, and he has extraordinary needs. I know if I asked, he would remain faithful to me to the bitter end."

"And you feel the need to do otherwise why?"

"Because I know when I am gone, he will be devastated. He will be hungry and lost and I don't want him to be drawn into something wrong for him because of years of neglect. You are sweet, and kind to him. You would be a good match, physically. And when I am gone, it will be easier for you both if you have each other for comfort."

"I..." Minerva was stunned, shocked, hurt, angry, and terribly aware of the woman's hand stroking her waist. She didn't know what to say or feel. "I can't."

"You have never been with a man, have you, angel?"

"No," she admitted, eyes downward. She felt the truth battering against her tongue, demanding to be told, but she let Gabi think that her lack of experience with men meant she was virginal and pure. She didn't know why, but she couldn't bear having Gabi know the truth, that she'd spent most of her seventh year at Hogwarts in an insane, passionate, explosive affair with another girl.

"You don't have to make a decision now," Gabriela whispered, kissing the hand she held. "If he comes to you, and you wish to be with him, do so with my blessings, bella. I want him to be happy."

Minerva couldn't stay there any longer. She forced herself out of Gabi's bed, face flushed and pulse racing. This couldn't be happening. This sort of thing just didn't happen to people like her. "I need...I need to think."

"Send Tonio in, when he is ready." Gabi didn't try to stop her. She just smiled as Minerva stumbled out of the room.

***

Minerva's Chambers, 1970

"You were in love with Gabriela, weren't you?" Deanna's voice held no judgment, only a compassionate sort of understanding.

"At that time, I was in no condition to love anything or anyone," Minerva admitted, pulling a cube of ice from the bucket to nibble.

"Because of me?"

Minerva shrugged noncommittally. "Because of a lot of things."

Deanna watched in silence for a long moment, then leaned over to kiss Minerva's lips. The ice slipped between them, chilling her tongue as she lingered in the embrace that seemed to sing out amidst the silence of time. She pulled away suddenly, shaking her head. "Wench, if you're going to do that with your tongue, the least you can do is get rid of the ice."

Minerva laughed. "I did eventually become Tonio's lover, you know." She began kissing Deanna's chin, then her throat and neck. With each kiss, she allowed the ice to slip against Deanna's skin, reveling in the shivers that shook the woman's body at each touch. "He was a very good teacher, and I was a very good student." She kissed her way to Deanna's right ear, and pressed the ice cube hard against the sensitive spot just behind the lobe, holding it there just long enough to skirt the line between pleasure and agony.

"Argh," Hooch groaned, scrunching her neck to remove the ice and Minerva's lips. "Too cold." She rubbed fiercely behind her ear. "You like that?"

There was darkness in Minerva's eyes, so similar to the passion of her youth, but harder, fiercer than Hooch remembered. "I like a lot of things," she whispered.

Deanna offered a grin. "If you show up in my bed dressed like Barbarella with a whip, I will personally take you off to have your head examined."

That netted her an odd look, but Minerva simply took another piece of ice from the bucket and transfigured it into a tiny bouquet of Edelweiss. She handed the flowers to Hooch. "I believe I was in the middle of my memoirs, milady?"

"Please, don't let my provinciality keep you from telling your tale." But she couldn't shake the shivers as the scent of flowers and Minerva filled her nostrils.

***

Portofino, 1944

The Port of Call was one of the few places left in Portofino where a person could go and have a good meal, a glass of wine or beer, and good conversation. And since the newest owner of the Port of Call, one Paolo Vestigi from Rome, had decided to specialize in German fare, he rarely lacked for customers amongst the city's newest residents.

One such resident was Dr. Heinrich Weimer, a local "businessman" who seemed to know every soldier, ruffian and collaborator on the Ligurian coast. And it was that same Dr. Weimer who was now seated at the best table, finishing up his schnitzle and spatzel. "Paulo, you outdo yourself," he bellowed, too much beer and arrogance in his system for anything remotely near to self-control to take hold. "If you weren't Italian, I'd say you were the best cook in the world."

"You are too kind, Herr Doktor," Paolo mumbled from behind the bar. "More beer?"

Four men, officers in the local police, ambled into the restaurant, all bluster and wind. They pushed their way through the meager late afternoon clientele, one of them knocking a plate of pork roast to the floor. The old woman who swept the floors rushed to clean the mess.

Paolo watched carefully from the bar, trying not to appear as if he was listening. Il Banda did not like too much listening, and the Germans liked it even less. The main officer spoke to Dr. Weimer in hushed tones, nodding and gesturing. As quickly as they arrived, the four men turned to leave.

It happened so quickly. The old woman, her tray of broken dishes perched precariously on one gnarled claw, stood to head off to the kitchen. The officers turned to leave. The crash was quick and loud, ending with poor Minna down on her knees. The lead man, a harsh Neopolitan who looked like he'd spent more time in jail than out, landed a fierce blow across her right cheek, sending her sprawling across the room. Before anyone could react, the German barked out an order and the men left quickly without another word.

Paolo rushed from behind the bar, helping old Minna to her feet. Her cheek was turning purple where the fist had made contact. "You are alright?" he whispered.

"Of course, she's alright. Italian women get sturdier as they get older. They certainly don't get prettier," he added with a harsh laugh. "Now, where was my beer?"

Minna lowered her head, ignoring the look of concern in the eyes of the restaurant owner. "I have to clean this mess," she murmured.

Paolo sighed, and headed off to get Herr Doktor's beer.

***

It was getting dark as Paolo led Minna back to her shack on the edge of town. Curfew was at sundown, and they had to hurry to avoid becoming targets of Il Banda. A storm was rolling in from the sea, and large drops began to pelt them as they wound their way through the narrow streets.

Seventeen steps carved in stone led up to the street where Minna's hovel stood in crooked disrepair. It was on the edge of town, far from the villas and artists colonies and vistas that had once attracted so many tourists and moving picture companies. They walked quickly to the far end of the street, to the ramshackle house that had no immediate neighbors.

It was pouring down by the time a drenched Paolo led Minna in without a word. A quick look around for intruders, and he transfigured himself back into the face and figure of Tonio Fiorenza. He turned to the old lady with concern. "You alright, Minerva?"

The ancient woman stepped toward him, transfiguring with each step from a huddled, bent crone to a twenty-five year old woman with a bruised face. "I didn't duck fast enough." Her dress was soaked, as was her shoulder length red hair. "And if I'd ever managed to get the hang of animagic, I could have transfigured myself into a pigeon and pecked his bloody eyes out."

"That was foolish," he chastised. "They could have hurt you badly."

"Badly enough to be worth this?" she said, pulling a piece of paper from her dress. "I saw Herr Doktor slip it into the Neopolitan's pocket. It only took a second to mumble a duplication spell and have my very own copy." She smiled as he took the message from her, then winced as the bruised muscles protested.

"It's in code." Tonio began to laugh. "Minerva, you're brilliant. I'll get this to the Ministry as soon as I can."

She tried to laugh, too, but the pain in her face was too much. Tonio stopped, lifting his hand to stroke the tender skin. "You're hurt," he whispered.

"Not badly. A healing spell should do the trick." She had no idea why they were whispering, but it seemed appropriate.

"You shouldn't be doing this." His eyes closed as he stroked her cheek. "It's too dangerous."

"Tony, don't, please." But she did nothing to stop him from stroking her, nothing to stop him from standing so near to her. When he kissed her, she did nothing to encourage it, yet could not bring herself to stop.

His hands were soft against her skin, his mouth insistent and sweet. It was so different from what she'd known with Deanna. His body was hard and muscular, his scent spicy and tantalizing. She wrapped her hands in his dark hair, pulling his mouth harder against hers as their bodies pressed against each other. She bit his lower lip, nibbling his skin as he lifted her gently and carried her to the hovel's tiny bed.

Her heart was pounding against her ribs as he laid her on her back, standing above her like an ancient god, all water and thunder and passion. The rain had plastered his shirt to his torso, outlining the contours of his body in a most delicious way. Minerva felt simultaneously terrified and aroused. But when he began to unbuckle his belt, the ice slammed down around her.

"No," she insisted, to his shock and disappointment. "I'm so sorry, Tonio," she choked, pulling her dress tightly around her as she sat up. "I can't have it this way. Not here, and not this way. Not..." She drew in a hard breath before continuing in a subdued tone. "Not for my first time."

Tonio sat down, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and kissing the top of her head. "I understand. Tonight?"

She nodded. She couldn't face him. She was glad he offered his strength from behind her so she wouldn't have to look in his eyes. She wasn't in love with him. Strip away the arousal, strip away the desire, it was something she couldn't avoid anymore. She wasn't in love with this man. It was as if frozen reality had forced itself to her mouth and mind. She couldn't say no, and she couldn't make herself be in love with him. "Come to my room tonight," she said. "I want to talk to Gabi first, to make sure she hasn't changed her mind."

"I understand."

His arms felt so good around her. He felt so safe and strong. "Come to me tonight, Tonio," she murmured into his forearm, kissing the wet fabric of his shirt. "I'll be with you then."

***

The guesthouse bed was large enough for two. Her sheets were clean and the room spotless. Minerva was a fastidious housekeeper.

Gabriela had been no help at all, happily congratulating her for her choice and offering well-meant words of encouragement. A stern part of Minerva wondered what sort of woman could so glibly send her husband to another woman's bed, but the warmth of Gabi's touch blurred the old-fashioned prudence.

She lay here now, in her nicest white gown with the tiny satin blue flowers at the neck, waiting for a married man to take her virginity.

It seemed odd, after her numerous trysts with Deanna in school, to think of herself as a virgin, but in this sense, she was. She'd bathed and powdered and the healing spell had cleared away most of the bruising on her cheek. Her hair was brushed and scented. It only took a momentary glance in the mirror to know that she looked the perfect mistress, awaiting her lover.

When the knock came on the door, Minerva practically jumped out of her skin. Instead, she calmed herself and invited him in.

Tonio had showered and combed his hair back. He wore a silk robe and slippers, with his green monogrammed pajamas underneath. He smiled at her, suppressing a chuckle as he crossed the bed to sit next to her.

"What's so bloody funny?" Her voice came out harsh, unexpected. She sounded like a drunken frog to her nervous ears.

"You look like a lamb preparing for slaughter."

She blushed. "Don't flatter yourself, Signor Fiorenza."

Tonio lay down on his side next to her, a lazy grin crossing his face. "You can still back out."

"You know I can't back out now, you bastard." But she grinned too. "I've already washed my hair."

He leaned over, sniffing the auburn locks. "Smells beautiful." His dark eyes met hers, locking their gaze for a long moment. "You look beautiful."

She felt her stomach clench. Nerves were taking over, making her sharper than necessary. They both knew why they were here, and there was no use romanticizing things. "Are you going to make love to me or talk to me?" she asked bluntly.

"Can't we do both?" His hand was stroking the curve of her hip in long, languorous movements.

"No, we can't. Because if we put this off much longer, I shall lose my nerve. And then I'll be cross with you for..."

He didn't allow her to finish her sentence. His mouth was hot against hers, tongue probing as he rolled her onto her back and straddled her. She reached up, pulling his robe off and tossing it to the floor.

His lips were like scalding brands, leaving sizzling marks against her skin as he kissed his way across her body. The nightgown lasted only moments, ended a torn mess next to his robe and slippers on the ground. Minerva struggled to assert herself, pushing against Tonio until they were both kneeling on the bed together. She lifted his shirt over his head, tracing a path of kisses down his chest to his belly, tonguing his belly button as she did so. Her eyes glanced downward, staring for a long moment at the tightness in the front of his bottoms.

They paused, eyes locking for a moment before she had to admit, "I don't know what to do."

His eyes were haunted, a guilt showing there for the first time. Ironically enough, that momentary flash of conscience calmed Minerva. "You can learn," he growled.

"Teach me everything."

***

Portofino, 1945

There was a benefit to looking as if you didn't speak the language. There was also a benefit to appearing both ugly and stupid, especially if you were a working class woman. While she still struggled diligently to develop animagical talents, Minerva had grown quite adept at transfiguring her outward appearance. And right now, as reports of Allied forces gaining ground in Europe and the Pacific filtered through even the propaganda of Italian news and radio, it was most crucial that she kept herself as invisible as possible. As the war grew closer to ending, the enemy grew meaner and more desperate.

The Port of Call had been compromised near the end of '44 when leaked information was traced back to their loud-mouthed German businessman and the place raided for spies. She and Tonio had managed to apparate out of there only moments before Il Banda arrived, tearing up the place and destroying everything inside. Fortunately, this had happened after hours, so no customers were hurt. But since then they struggled to find other sources of information.

Minerva had been more capable, finding menial jobs as maids and waitresses where the military lingered. She was fluent in German and Italian, but didn't let it show unless she wished to. The more menial the task, the more invisible she became, and the looser the tongues became, especially as the wine and beer flowed.

She made herself homely more often than not. It kept things easier, as it was hard to concentrate on eavesdropping when you were fighting pinches and leering glances. There were times when she went days without seeing her own reflection in the mirror.

Today, though, there had been no news other than the same old gossip. She hobbled back towards the shack, ignoring as best she could the haunted Muggle eyes in the streets. She hated that she was forced to use such covert measures, but the Ministry of Magic had been most specific about not revealing themselves to the Muggles. Even now that the Ministry had committed itself fully to the Muggle war, however belatedly, they were still binding her hands as to how far she could go and how much she could do.

"Signora?" A little Muggle girl, no more than five or six, tugged at her skirt. Her coal eyes were huge and hungry. She said nothing, just that single word and the helpless, soundless plea for help.

Minerva dug in her pocket for her purse. She had only a few lira, but she gave it all to the girl. The child's eyes grew wide, and she started to run towards her mama. She stopped, remembering her manners, and turned back to Minerva. "Grazi!"

"Prego," Minerva murmured. It was beggars helping beggars now, even in a wealthy port like this. She crossed the final few meters to the hovel. She'd be so relieved to transfigure back to her normal face and body and apparate to the villa for a hot bath. She put the key in the lock, scanning the room as always for intruders.

She was surprised to see Antonio there. "Tony?"

His face was pale as he hurried her into the room, closing the door behind her. "I'm glad you didn't linger. You haven't heard the news, yet, have you?"

"What news?" His voice worried her.

"We need to get back to the villa. I'm increasing the protection spell around it."

"Why?" His fingers were pressing hard into her arm, now. "Tonio, you're hurting me. Why are we increasing the protection spell?"

"Mussolini has been arrested near the Swiss border. He was trying to escape."

"What?"

"All hell is breaking loose, Minerva. It won't be long before the end. And we had better get ourselves to safety before the news gets around."

She felt the weight of his words in every cell of her body. When Tonio started to apparate, she joined him without another word.

***

The days following Il Duce's execution were fast and furious. Tonio would not allow them out of the villa. The Americans reached Milan in April. The Allied troops were on the move throughout Europe. It was only a matter of time till the Germans surrendered.

When the news of German surrender made its way to Portofino, though, there was no rejoicing in the Fiorenza villa. Two days before the announcement had been made, the lady of the home, Seniora Gabriella Romana Fiorenza, succumbed to cancer at age 48.

***

Portofino, August 1945

His weight was too heavy. Minerva groaned, struggling against the scarves that bound her to the bed. Tonio's body covered hers, his breath strong with wine and grief. She tried to move him, but he grunted incoherently and began thrusting again into her.

For two weeks after Gabriela's death, Minerva was inconsolable. Tonio was patient with her, letting her grieve alone and in her own way. But after a month passed, his needs became more important and they got back to living the life they found themselves thrust into more by circumstance than actual desire to be there.

Almost three months after her friend's demise, Minerva was still with Tonio. While he'd once been gentle, recently he'd started coming to her more often, sometimes twice a night, and his demands had become increasingly bizarre. Minerva went along with him, never denying any but one of his requests. She wouldn't move into the main house, no matter how often he begged or pleaded or demanded or threatened.

She would not take Gabriela's place in that house, no matter what Tonio wanted. She would give him her body without discretion, without concern for her own needs or safety in some cases. But she would not become his wife, nor would she take his wife's place in their bed.

With each proposal refused, the wine flowed more freely, the sex grew more peculiar, and her desire to leave grew stronger by the day.

She lay still, wondering how on earth she'd managed to wind up in this place. Tonio's snoring was her cue to whisper an incantation to loosen the scarves and release her hands. She carefully removed his body, determined not to waken him. It was sweltering. August in Italy was simply unbearable, and she wanted to be home.

But where on Earth was home? Minerva walked out on to the piazza, watching the sunrise. The houses climbed up the mountain, a pastel rainbow of homes that just broke her heart. She watched the sunlight slowly make its way up the mountainside. As beautiful as this place was, it was empty and lonely to her.

She stepped back into the guesthouse. Tonio was still snoring, passed out on the bed. She ignored him and headed into the main house for a cup of espresso and the morning paper. The headline sent her running back into the guesthouse.

"Tonio," she jumped into the bed, rousing him from his sleep. "Wake up, Tony."

He was angry with her. Tried to push her away and go back to sleep.

"Wake up," she snarled, pulling him into a sitting position and thrusting the paper in front of him. "Read."

Tonio wiped his eyes, then read the words that jutted in huge letters from the front page. "Americans Drop Atom Bomb." He paused, and then looked up at her with a stricken expression. "Oh, dear gods," he whispered.

"They dropped it on Hiroshima, Japan. Tonio, an atom bomb. The Muggles have used an atom bomb."

"I read what it said, you idiot."

Her eyes widened in shock. "Excuse me."

"Sorry," he said absently, thumbing through the paper for more information. "The Muggles have gone mad. Do you know what damage they can do with this sort of technology?"

"What did you call me?" Minerva said in a fiercely calm voice.

"I said I'm sorry. We've got serious issues here. The Americans have dropped an atom bomb. They have the capacity to destroy the world."

Minerva slammed her hand on the newspaper, ripping it out of his hand. "I don't care if they have the capacity to destroy the bloody universe, what in hell did you just call me?"

"Don't be so sensitive, Min. We don't have time for you to get emotional." He reached for the paper, but before he could get it, it burst into flame. "Damn it!" He reached for the bottle of wine and doused the fire. "Are you trying to destroy our home?"

"Your home, Tonio. I'm leaving."

"Don't stupid, Minerva." He reached out to stroke her shoulder, and she slapped his hand away. "I'm serious. Don't try my patience."

"Nobody calls me an idiot, and no one calls me stupid. I've had it, Antonio. I'm leaving in the morning."

"You can't be serious." He started to laugh, but stopped when he saw the look in her eyes. "Minerva, you are not leaving. You have no place to go."

"I'm a member of the diplomatic corps. I'll go where they send me."

"You'd do that? You'd leave me? Leave Marko, all alone without a mother?"

"Don't you dare drag Marko into this."

"No," he said, throwing off the bedcovers and reaching for the pants of his pajamas. "No, let's bring Marko into this. Let's see how selfish you can be, telling that little boy you're going to break his heart so soon after his mama died."

"Tonio, don't be a prick." He had her hand now, and was dragging her into the house.

"Marko!"

His grip on her hand, his refusal to listen to her pleas, began to frighten her. "Tonio, please, don't do this. He's just a little boy."

"Marko!"

"Tonio, you're drunk; you're not thinking straight. Please, don't do something you'll regret." Her wrist was throbbing now. "Tonio, you're hurting me."

"Marko," he yelled. "Get down here. Right now."

Minerva was sobbing by the time the little boy came running down the stairs, his eyes still sleepy and confused.

"What's wrong, Min? Papa, why is she crying?"

"Tell him, Minerva. Look into that face and tell him what you told me."

She was crying too hard to speak, crying too hard to look into that worried little face. Everything had gone so horribly wrong. Gabi was gone, and everything was wrong.

Marko, bless his sweet little soul, wrapped her in a little boy embrace, purring and soothing and stroking her hair. "It's all right, Auntie Min. It's all right. Don't cry," he kept saying over and over. His little voice, his attempts to sooth her only made it worse.

Finally, for reasons all his own, Tonio ended the ordeal. "Minerva is leaving, Marko. She has to go back to England to help now that the war is over."

Marko began to cry in earnest. "No, Minerva. Don't go away. Stay here. Please don't go away."

She was choking on her tears now. She hated Tonio with every breath in her body, more than anyone she'd ever known in her entire life. "I--I can't stay, bambino," she managed to gasp as she placed kiss after kiss on his sleep-warm curls. "I have to go."

"She has to leave right away, so we will have breakfast together and then help her pack." He tousled Marko's hair, then pulled him firmly from Minerva, to whom the little boy clung with every ounce of strength in his tiny body. "Be a brave boy, Marko. Go get dressed and then come down for breakfast." His voice brooked no argument, and the little boy wiped away his tears before running up the stairs after a mumbled, "yes, Papa."

Tonio glared at Minerva, his eyes hard and cold. "Pull yourself together. I won't have you upsetting my son with your blubbering."

She somehow managed to stop her tears. She focused on the hatred she felt. She focused on how happy she'd be never to see his face again. "I feel sorry for you, Tony. But I feel sorrier for that little boy of yours."

He stood, turning to leave with only this to say. "Have your things packed. I want you out of here by noon."

***

Minerva's Chambers, 1970

Deanna stared at Minerva. She'd told the tale of her last days with Tonio Fiorenza with complete dispassion. "Your relationships never end well, do they?"

"That is the understatement of the century." Minerva stroked a single finger along the bottle of wine, gazing thoughtfully at the empty space before her. "We met up many years later, in London. He'd remarried and, thank gods, stopped drinking. He couldn't stop apologizing to me the whole meal. I met his wife later. A dear woman madly in love with him, the kind of woman he deserved. Somebody who actually loved him, unlike me."

"I dunno, seemed to me like you loved him very much," Deanna ventured.

Minerva cocked her head slightly in surprise. "Really?" She stopped, confused. "I don't know. My feelings at that time were not exactly stable. On the other hand, once we stopped being lovers, we became quite good friends. I even attended Marko's commencement from law school."

"A lawyer? I guess he wasn't too scarred by the experience."

Minerva's voice had that same feel to it, of being a million miles in any direction from the place where her body sat. "Sometimes the worst scars are the ones you can't see." She stretched, smiling as her wrists bumped Deanna's shoulder. "It's getting late. Maybe we should open the wine?"

Deanna nodded, rising to her feet in one feline gesture. "I'll get the glasses."

By the time she returned, Minerva had already dried the bottle and was working the cork carefully. She opened it with almost no effort, lifting the cork to her nose with a satisfied expression. "Oh, this is going to be good," she informed her.

"I hope so. Otherwise, you just squandered your retirement fund on a bottle of overrated vinegar." She held both glasses out for a fill. The soft pale liquid gurgled into the glasses with a heart and soul of its own. Minerva paused after pouring only a little in each glass. She lifted her glass to her nose, breathed in the scent, then sipped a tiny portion. "Oh, my," she whispered. "This is magnificent." She motioned for Deanna to follow suit.

Shrugging, the brooms instructor sniffed her wine. It smelled okay. She sipped. Tasted very okay. Not knowing what else was required in appreciation of such a formal wine, she simply smiled at McGonagall with a helpless, "Good."

Apparently that was enough, for Minerva filled her glass and Deanna's, placing the bottle back on the ice. "A toast," she insisted.

"A toast it is."

"To departed friends, to teachers of all sorts, and to the lessons we thought we'd never learn."

"Here, here," Deanna offered her approval and joined Minerva in a real swallow of wine. This time, it really hit her. "Damn, this is good."

"Never get drunk on cheap alcohol, Deanna," her friend said, balancing her glass expertly as she leaned back onto the couch in a satisfied heap. "The hangovers are worse, and it's never ever worth it."

"Speak for yourself," Hooch said, joining her. "Cheap booze gets you drunker, pal. And if you're gonna get drunk, you might as well go all the way."

Minerva cast her a scathing look, then dug into her pocket and pulled out a sealed envelope. "Marko sent this to me by owl this afternoon. His father wanted me to read it when we had the toast."

"What is it?" Hooch craned her neck as Minerva opened the envelope and pulled out a folded sheet of parchment paper. The text was written in what looked like Italian.

"ove udirai le disperate strida," Minerva began to read.

"Huh?"

"Shhhh...." she continued.

"ove udirai le disperate strida,

vedrai li antichi spiriti dolenti,

ch'a la seconda morte ciascun grida;

e vederai color che son contenti

nel foco, perché speran di venire

quando che sia a le beate genti.

A le quai poi se tu vorrai salire,

anima fia a ciò più di me degna:

con lei ti lascerò nel mio partire;"

Deanna waited until she was done. There was a long silence, then she said, "That was lovely. What was it?'

Minerva had begun to smile now in earnest. "That was a message from Tonio. Dante, The Divine Comedy, Purgatory, I believe. Longfellow translated it as,

Where thou shalt hear the desperate lamentations,

Shalt see the ancient spirits disconsolate,

Who cry out each one for the second death;

And thou shalt see those who contented are

Within the fire, because they hope to come,

Whene'er it may be, to the blessed people;

To whom, then, if thou wishest to ascend,

A soul shall be for that than I more worthy;

With her at my departure I will leave thee;"

Another long pause. "Well, that was cheery," came the dry, low comment from Hooch.

"He's reminding me of a conversation we had a long time ago, back in London. Reminding me that this place, as hard as it is, is only a weigh station on the path to a better place. We can stay content in our pain, hoping to be rescued, or we can struggle towards a higher place."

"Forgive me for saying this, but your friend put you through more than just purgatory. I think you went through hell with that guy."

There was a soft laugh as Minerva refolded the paper gently and took another sip of her wine. "No, that was purgatory. Believe me, I had only begun to explore the circles of hell when I left Tonio."

***

To be continued in True Nature: New York