Strange and Wondrous

Minerva's bedroom had settled into a still quiet as the moon rose over the dark loch glistening under her window. She was exhausted, but the adrenaline from the birth of her daughter had not quite dissipated yet. A few hours before, she'd been in hard labor, attended by two skilled midwives, her mother, and her house elf Mimsy. Even with the use of powerful magic, the birth had not been easy and it had not been painless. But when she'd seen her child, heard her cry for the first time, all the fear and worry of the last nine months had drained from her for a moment. Now that she was alone, she felt the wisps of uncertainty spiral into her brain once more.

She wanted Tom by her side. The heart charm he'd given her hung around her neck on a golden chain. She'd worn it since she'd Apparated back to her family home the day after Christmas, but she'd never spoken the words that would call him to her. One hand even now absentmindedly stroked its smooth contours, wishing for impossible things. To be frank, even though she wanted him - needed him - she was afraid to call him. Afraid of what she would feel, afraid of what he might do, afraid that her tenacious grip on a new life might slip in the face of her desire.

Closing her eyes and snuggling her swaddled baby closer to her, Minerva reflected on the past months, months that had been dreamlike, surreal. Her resignation from the Department of Unspeakables had been grudgingly accepted, but her pregnancy had made the way easier for her. It was not safe to perform Animagus transformations when one was with child. The final briefing had gone easily. Her lies and vague truths had been accepted with no question. But even as she'd given that last report, she'd felt the tingle of the Dark charm burrowing inside her, reminding her every moment of what she'd done.

Fleeing London for the highlands of her family home, she'd sought refuge and isolation. She had made up a likely story of a brief affair with an Albanian wizard who'd tragically been killed shortly after she returned to England. It had made her sick to tell these lies, but she'd seen no other way. The charm barred her from even writing Tom's name in her diary. She took solace in the fact that her child would be welcomed with open arms by her family. Every Wizarding baby was a wanted baby, especially those from families as old as the McGonagall clan.

As the days of her pregnancy passed, Minerva found herself becoming more and more obsessed with the echoing hum of the Dark magic she'd chosen to accept within her. This obsession wasn't about possessing or using more Dark knowledge. Instead she was determined to find a way to rid Tom of the Darkness he'd ritually incorporated within himself. She'd exhausted her own family's ancient libraries, spending countless hours pouring over dusty books devoted to protection against the Dark Arts. When she'd finished there, she'd sought out the Hogwarts library.

Before she left for her first trip, she'd received an owl from Tom. It was brief, merely asking how she was, stating his longing for her. He hadn't signed it, but left the mark of a golden heart in place of his name. It broke her heart all over again, but she wasn't ready to maintain contact with him. Not yet. Not till she found out something, anything, to help them be together. She penned a terse reply, letting him know she was well, but not able to write him more at the moment.

Despite her search for something - anything - to help Tom, her efforts were fruitless. The only thing she discovered were ways to protect herself and her growing child. But she had in this time gained something she'd missed for years and years - a semblance of a normal life. She'd reconnected with friends and family, meeting for dinner parties, Quidditch matches, and dances once again. Her manner remained subdued and restrained, but she enjoyed herself more now than she'd had in so very long. It helped take her mind off the worries that consumed her in the dark, lonely nights she lay awake feeling her baby kick within her as the tears fell upon her pillow.

The owls from Tom continued. Some were brief and almost casual, but some nearly palpated with his loneliness and yearning for her. She continued answering them with brief statements of wellness. She honestly did not know what else to say.

Now in her arms she held their daughter, dark-haired and dark eyed and full of the promise of both her parents. Minerva finally knew what to say. Plumping up the pillows underneath the baby, she reached one hand from the bundle of blankets to the cool heart resting against her chest. She raised it to her lips, her hand slightly trembling. Checking her bedside table to make sure her wand was within easy reach, she whispered, "Come to me."

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Stars shone high above the minaret towers of Alexandria. Warm breezes scented with cumin and roasting meats wafted through an open window of a stately dwelling in the hidden heart of the city. Tom glanced up from the ancient text he had been deciphering. His eyes drifted from the words down through the dark streets of the old Wizarding Quarters, one of the cradles of ancient wisdom of the Wizarding world. His mind drifted into the ruts and furrows he tried to discipline himself from visiting. Minerva...

He slammed the book shut, freeing a cloud of dust. He stormed across the room, furious at once again allowing his mind to wander to thoughts of her. He hit the wall with his fist, reveling in the pain, which jerked his focus from the perilous realms of his own dangerous thoughts.

Once the throbbing in his hand subsided, he slowly walked to the window. He looked up into the sky, knowing that the glowing orb above him, the waxing moon, shone not only over him, but over her as well. He put his hurt hand to his eyes and succumbed to the thoughts and worries that had tormented him since she'd left him standing alone in the Albanian forest.

When she had disappeared that night, he had not been able to think for some moments. He finally began moving; his body felt like he was walking through quicksand. He'd managed to slip back into his turret rooms and back out again, bearing his possessions to Alexandria and a new, uncertain start. For once in his life, he was not sure what to do.

The days passed and she didn't call for him. He slowly began to sense anger and grief surging through up the numbness. Underlying everything was the raw power that bubbled and boiled through his bloodstream and nervous system. Remarkable things had happened to him, and he wore the power well. Slowly he began to venture out from his suite of rooms purchased with purloined Karkaroff gold.

A few days after his arrival he'd come across a group of wizards in a small cafe in one of the dingy corners of the Wizards Bazaar. They were swathed in black cotton robes and wore long, grizzled beards. Their cloudy eyes shone with the faintest glint of red as they sat in the shade, sipping their dark black coffees. Tom had approached them, the power in his veins calling out to theirs. The wizards had stopped suddenly, sensing him. Most of the faded away into the recesses of the cafe. But three stayed to meet him, to accept him into their Dark Brotherhood. He would no longer be an apprentice, but he knew he still had much to learn. The Caliphs of the Blood would guide him further in his quest for power and the Dark.

Tom threw himself into research and ancient rites. He studied and plotted and practiced every waking moment. When he could bear to read or write no longer, he would walk the streets of Alexandria, sometimes going far into the countryside. He did whatever he could to banish Minerva from his mind, but he soon realized how very weak he was. He sent her owls often, carefully worded should they be intercepted. He tried to be patient, but damn her - why didn't she call for him? She didn't even answer his letters sometimes, and for those she did, she graced him with only a terse sentence or two. Didn't she know how much he needed her? Didn't she know that worry for her and their child snaked its way into nearly every moment of the day, no matter how hard he tried to keep busy?

As the months went by, he tried to hate her, to burn her memory from him. He contacted the fools who pledged their fealty to him that night in Albania, reminding them that they are his. Embracing his lifelong dreams of destiny he plots and plans until his brain is overwhelmed with strategy. He curses Minerva McGonagall and all those as high minded and blind like her in the Wizarding world. But still, at night when all is quiet, he pens long and heartfelt letters to her, some sent to her by owl, some not. He dreams of her by his when he rises to dominate the magical world. When would she see that her place was with him? She would be his queen, given everything she could ever want, everything he had.

He remembered her words that night telling him how the Darkness he embraced would alter him as the years went by. Even now he scoffed at that idea. He was in control, not the magic. The arcane knowledge, the power that was part of him, the Dark secrets he was learning from the Brotherhood... it was all under his control. She would understand that one day. He wondered whether she would even tell him when their child was born. He wondered why he should even care anymore - these feelings he had for her were weaknesses that could be easily exploited by enemies. He should stop thinking or caring about her. Maybe a selective Obliviation would work...

It was then he heard her voice whisper in his ear. "Come to me." Tom froze, not sure if the voice was real or imagined. He stood staring for a moment at the spires of the old city's minarets. 'I shouldn't go,' he thought angrily 'That would show her.' Even as the words formed inside his head he was preparing to Disapparate. He had to go. For better or for worse their fates were intertwined. The love for her mingled with the anger in his heart as he went to her side.

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He stood, shrouded in the shadows of her bedchamber, dressed in robes of white that shone in the darkness. His arms were crossed, and his face was closed to her, blank and furious at the same moment. Minerva felt goose flesh prickle on her skin and sensed a change in the air with his presence. Who had she invited into her room? She glanced at the bedside table to make sure her wand was in close reach. Her room was protected by the ancestral magic of her family home, but she had not thought to place further wards upon herself or the room. She hadn't thought70; That had been her problem ever since Tom had crashed into her life last Christmas. Stupid, how could she have been so stupid? Reckless, out of control70; She would never let anything like this happen to her again.

"Did I interrupt?" she said, tartly, anger at Tom 51; at herself 51; swelling like a sickly bruise on her heart.

His eyes flashed with malice, and Minerva grabbed for her wand. A wave of pain and nausea surged through her. She wondered how quickly the House Elves would be able to come to her aid. Not quickly enough, she imagined. Breathing hard and trying not to jostle the baby, Minerva held her wand before her. The words she'd wished to speak withered in her fear and pain.

Time stopped, it seemed to Minerva. She couldn't imagine what would happen when the moment ended. There was no future - only past and present and regrets and love gone so badly. Tom broke his gaze finally, looking down at his sandaled feet. He glanced back up at her briefly, pain mirrored in his eyes, and then he covered his face in his hands.

Tom had been fully prepared to cut Minerva with his words, to wound her with his anger at her rejection, but he'd never considered hurting her physically. When he saw the fear on her face 51; fear of him 51; he'd felt an emotion with which he'd not had much experience. Shame at his actions, shame for how she must see him now, washed over him, especially when he'd noticed the bundle of pink flesh swaddled in her arms. His irrational weakness for this woman opened wide and devoured him.

Stepping tentatively towards her, he held his arms out in front of him so she could see he had no wand ready to use against her. "Forgive me, Minerva. I've tried so hard to hate you. It made it easier, you see, than to feel your absence. I promised to protect you and our child. I sealed that promise with powerful magic. I won't hurt you, Minerva. Not now, not ever. I70; it's been difficult without you. I'm70; sorry to have frightened you."

Minerva nodded her head slightly, her wand dipping.

"Why didn't you call for me?" His voice was small and so full of hurt. If anyone but Minerva had heard him speak like this he would have killed them on the spot.

Minerva's wand hand was shaking. She couldn't have held it up much longer. The relief that washed over her with his words was that much greater. Slowly she lowered the wand to the blankets beside her. "I don't know, Tom. It's been difficult for me, as well. But I have missed you." Tears prickled in her eyes, but she refused to let herself cry again.

Tom took another step closer. "Are you all right?" With uncrossing his arms he didn't seem to quite know what to do with them. Minerva saw in him the boy she'd once known, that shy, dedicated boy who'd have done anything to please her.

"I'm tired and more than a little uncomfortable, but I'm fine. Please, Tom, come and see our daughter."

He moved slowly towards her bed. The moonlight claimed him from the shadows. His gaze flickered between Minerva and his child in her arms. Minerva had dark circles under her eyes and she looked pale and exhausted. She smiled at him a bit wanly then arranged the blankets about the baby so he could better see her. The baby - his daughter, he thought with incredulity 51; had the black hair of both her parents and slept with no worries in her little mind.

"She's beautiful," he murmured.

Minerva motioned him to sit beside her on the bed. He carefully settled down. She smelled scents of cumin and hot sand on his tanned skin and felt a pang of longing for him, to touch him, to keep him with her always.

Tom sat facing her, his thigh pressed against hers. He had wanted to feel her touch for so long. There was a quiet dread balling in his stomach that told him this might be the last time, no matter what they might wish or hope. He placed his hand over hers where it covered the baby's tiny chest and took that moment to look into the eyes of the woman he'd idolized since the moment they'd met.

She met his gaze, but to her horror she perceived a faint glint of red shining from his dark eyes and reflected in the silver light from the window. Nothing had changed, no matter how she wished it had. She was rescued from this realization then by the stirring of the baby.

Tom smiled down at her. "When was she born?" he asked, stroking her soft cheek with one hand, while still clasping Minerva's hand with the other.

"A few hours ago," said Minerva.

"What are you going to call her?"

"Miranda," said Minerva. "The name means 'strange and wonderful'. It's how I've felt about how she came into my life."

Tom raised Minerva's hand to his lips and kissed it in response. He was silent for a time before he said with a catch in his voice, "It suits her well. Miranda McGonagall."

"I want you to give her a name, too. What should her second name be?"

Tom thought a moment, his hands connecting him to the only true family he would ever know. Now that he was here, before her, taking in the sights of this dear child and her beautiful mother, he wondered if this could be enough. Could he stay here with her and forsake his destiny, forget the thrill of power? He wanted it to be enough. But he knew he was lying to himself. "Grace," he said finally. "Miranda Grace."

'For the grace I will never know if I leave this woman,' he thought.

Minerva nodded. "Miranda Grace."

Silence fell between them. The light of the moon enveloped the young family in a soft, calming glow.

"How have you been, Tom? Where have you been?"

"A long way from here," he said. "May I hold her?"

Minerva hesitated, and impatience twisted on Tom's face. "I told you I wouldn't hurt either of you. I won't Disapparate with her either. Why don't you trust me?"

"You know why," said Minerva calmly, gathering the baby up. "But of course you may hold her." She lifted the baby to him, and he carefully took her.

Miranda opened her eyes and yawned. Tom smiled, the firm, warm weight of the infant's body settling into his arms. It was an amazing experience to hold this life, this little life that he'd been a part of creating. He was rocking her slightly, admiring her tiny features, when into his mind sprang the potions and charms that could be made with an infant's blood 51; potions to seal fates and hide misdeeds, charms to mislead and enslave. It horrified him. He had appraised his own daughter's potential sacrificial benefits in Dark magic. Perhaps Minerva had been right when she'd told him the Darkness would change him. He somewhat hurriedly handed Miranda back to her mother and walked to the window. Looking out on the dark loch, he listened to the Darkness sing in his veins, calling more power for him by any means necessary. He didn't want to think about this, not now.

"I've some news," Minerva said after an awkward silence. "I've been asked to teach at Hogwarts. Professor Dumbledore has been made Headmaster, and he asked me straight-away. I start after the Easter holidays."

Tom grimaced at the name Dumbledore. "How wonderful for you," he said archly.

"I was hoping70; I wanted you to stay, Tom," said Minerva. "I've been doing research on Banishing Darkness spells, and Dumbledore was intrigued when I told him 51; in the vaguest terms, of course 51; about my theories. He would be a great help to you, and70;"

"No," said Tom sharply. "I will never want his help. And why do you insist I must be cured of what I am? I have a destiny, Minerva, a great one. You could join me with our daughter and we could rule the world. Come with me, Minerva, please. I would make you so happy."

"No," said Minerva. "I couldn't, Tom. You know that deep down. Already you're changing into something else, something that won't allow the man I loved to exist."

Red sparkled behind his eyes as anger rushed through him. How dare she speak to him that way? A vision of slapping her for her impudence flashed through his brain and then he shook his head to snap out of the uncalled mood. She was right. He walked slowly back to her bedside. "I know," he whispered. He sat down beside her once again and took her hand. "I'll send you money every year. At Christmas, for her upkeep."

"Tom, you don't need to do th70;"

"No, I do need to," Tom said fiercely. "My father abandoned me upon my birth. I'd never do that to my own child. I may be evil, but I am honorable."

"Of course, Tom, of course," said Minerva. "And I'll send you pictures, if you want, of Miranda each year. I'll, oh gods, Tom, I'll miss what could have been."

As the tears began, he reached towards her, enfolding her carefully into his arm so as not to disturb the baby. He kissed her forehead and said, "We were destined to be together, Minerva. I wish that it would have been for longer."

She leaned up and pressed her lips softly to his.

"Stay with me, " she breathed.

"Come with me," he said softly back.

Neither spoke for several minutes as they held each other for the last time. Miranda began whimpering, and Tom moved back. He stroked the baby's soft hair. "Goodbye, sweet one," he said. "Goodbye, Minerva. Remember that I will protect you and Miranda, no matter what. I will always cherish you both, no matter what else might change."

"I hope that stays true, Tom," said Minerva, her eyes shining with tears. "Goodbye."

Tom stood up and with one last longing glance, he Disapparated. Minerva picked up the baby and held her closely to her chest.

The door to her bedchamber opened. "Mistress, does you need anything," said Mimsy. "Mimsy thought you might be needing her."

"Could you help me put the baby in the bassinet?" she managed to say.

"Yes, Mistress," said the House Elf, moving quickly and efficiently. She took Miranda and placed her softly in the bassinet. Then she returned to Minerva and patted her hand. "Mistress is sad. Can Mimsy do anything to help?"

"No, Mimsy, thank you," said Minerva. "No wait, could you bring me a draft of Dreamless Sleep?"

"But Mistress, the baby will need feeding soon," said Mimsy.

"Oh, yes, that's right," said Minerva, suddenly even more tired and miserable than she'd been before. "Some Soothing Tea, then, please."

Mimsy hurried off to her task. Minerva pressed the hand that Tom had held to her lips and began sobbing with gasping breaths. The past nine months had thrown her life into a disarray of conflicting emotion, change, and loss. She couldn't regret her affair with Tom, no matter what might come, because the end result had been this beautiful child. Her life was much happier in many ways than it had been nine months ago, but she was intensely sad at losing Tom forever. She would never let anything like this happen again. The rest of her life would be one of planned reserve. And yet the memory of those heady days being swept off her feet would stay with her always.

Pulling herself together, she quieted herself with a few deep, wavering breaths. She waved her wand at the bassinet, and it scooted closer to the bed. She looked down at her sleeping daughter with love. Her strange and wondrous life had brought her this sweet little girl. For that she would always be thankful.

Minerva's story continues in "Betrayal and Confessions, 1978"